


"The Enchanted Cottage"

by Gaedhal



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, QAF Post 513
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 40,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9815078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaedhal/pseuds/Gaedhal
Summary: After an horrific injury, can Brian Kinney heal and find peace?The premise was suggested by an old movie and an even older play, "The Enchanted Cottage."





	1. Chapter 1

"The Enchanted Cottage"

Part 1

Pittsburgh, September 2006

 

“So what is this – an intervention?”

“Yes,” said Lindsay Peterson.

“No,” said Michael Novotny.

“Well?” said Brian Kinney. “Make up your fucking minds! Or at least get your stories straight.” He turned and stalked away from them, into the darkness of the loft.

“It’s not an intervention,” said Michael, following him. “But we ARE concerned!”

“Save your pity for someone who needs it,” Brian spat back. “Because I don’t!”

“Brian,” said Lindsay in her wheedling voice. “I’m concerned. Michael’s concerned. All of your friends are concerned!”

“I get it. Everyone is concerned about Brian. Now...” Brian flopped down on the bed. “You can leave.”

“Listen, asshole...” Michael began, his fear and his anger rising together.

But Lindsay hushed him. “What Michael is trying to say is that you should at least consider it. It might do you good to get away for a while. The Minnett Estate is lovely – right on the water. And the cottage is a perfect spot for a little peace and quiet – apart from the main house, but still close enough if you need anything. You can still work from there – you can bring your laptop and I’m sure internet access can be arranged if they don’t already have it. Mr. Vance thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Wonderful,” Brian mumbled into his pillow. “Gardner thinks it’s a good idea. Let’s all hear it for Gardner Vance!”

“He’s trying to help you!” Michael huffed. “That’s what we’re all trying to do. But you don’t give a shit! You should be glad you’re alive! Glad you’re here, when... when others... aren’t.” His voice broke and he had to look away. Goddamn Brian! He could be so infuriating! “Instead of sitting in this loft, feeling sorry for yourself!”

“I’ll take that under consideration, Mikey,” said Brian, suddenly rising from the bed. “I’ll think about what a heartless shithead I am. I’ll repent of my sins! I’ll get down on my knees and thank God I’m alive! I’ll have a glorious moment of conversion! Would that make you happy? Would that bring back... them? Would that heal everyone’s pain? Would that make it safe for me to walk down the street again? Would that make me what I was before – the hottest guy on Liberty Avenue? The Stud of Babylon? Would that make everything the way it was? Would it, Mikey?” Brian stared at his oldest friend. “I said, would it, Michael?”

“No,” Michael whispered, choking back tears. “It wouldn’t.”

“Then get the fuck out of here! Both of you!” Brian ran his long fingers through his uncombed hair. “I have someone coming over in a few minutes. Freshly ordered from Boys-R-Us. They deliver, don’t you know?”

Lindsay touched Michael’s arm. “We’d better go now. Think about it, Bri. Mrs. Minnett’s offer of the cottage stands and it’s yours whenever you’d like to use it.”

“I heard you the first hundred times, Lindz,” said Brian. He poured himself a straight Bourbon from the drinks cart. A double. And there was still plenty in the bottle. And more bottles where that one came from.

After they’d gone, Brian went into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to shock himself into a decent frame of mind. But it was useless. There was no decent frame of mind for Brian Kinney. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

As if staying at a fucking cottage up by Lake Erie would change anything. Fucking Lindsay! Fucking Michael! That’s all they thought about – ways to help him! Ways to fix him!

But some things could never be fixed.

Never.

He changed into a clean wifebeater. Black. It hung on him. It had been too long since he’d been able to work out. Too long since he’d been to the gym. He was too thin. His arms and shoulders were too...

He took off the wifebeater and put on an old sweatshirt with long sleeves.

He glanced over at the place where the mirror had been, forgetting that it was gone. All the mirrors were gone.

Just as well.

The door buzzed.

“Top floor. Come on up.”

He knew it was a mistake the moment he opened the door.

The look on the guy’s face spoke volumes.

Even hustlers, who you’d think had seen it all, can’t always hide their thoughts.

Or shut their big mouths.

“What... what’s wrong with your face?” he asked, guilelessly. He was just a kid. Maybe 18 or 19. Curly black hair and smooth caramel skin. His large brown eyes were wide as they stared.

“Nothing,” said Brian, his heart like a stone. “Nothing at all.”

The kid blinked and hesitated. “What... what do you like? The guy didn’t say.” 

“Nothing,” said Brian, turning away. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Huh?” The kid frowned.

“Beat it.” Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty. He shoved the bill at the kid. “Here. Now get out.”

The young hustler shoved the money in his pocket and left hurriedly.

Brian poured himself another double Bourbon and turned out the last light in the loft. 

And he sat there in the dark until dawn, drinking and thinking about how he was going to survive. 

If he was going to survive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Las Encantadas Estate on Lake Erie.

Part 2

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

“I brou... brou... brou...” 

“Slowly, Justin,” said Mrs. Minnett. “You know what happens when you get too excited.”

Justin Taylor clenched his right fist tightly in order to control it. Sometimes it seemed that his right hand and his tongue were connected somehow. That if he could steady his hand, then he could steady his voice as well.

He took a deep breath. “I brought... the flowers. From the gr... greenhouse.”

Mrs. Minnett smiled. “They’re beautiful, my dear. These roses are as lovely as I’ve ever seen them. Mr. Quigley says you’ve been a great help to him this summer.”

“Th... thanks, Mrs. Minnett.”

“You know he doesn’t get around as easily as he used to. A young pair of hands like yours is truly appreciated.”

“I’m d... doing what I can,” said Justin, trying not to blush. “Sometimes it’s hard. M... my hand...” He shrugged. “It gets tired. I get tired and then it’s difficult to do m... much of anything.”

“I think you are doing splendidly, my dear,” Mrs. Minnett said encouragingly. “My Charlie loved the garden. When he was a boy he was always following Mr. Quigley all over the grounds, asking questions. It was his idea to expand the vineyards. That’s why I call the wine ‘Charlot’ – after my son.” 

“Do you want me t... to take the flowers down to the cottage?” Justin asked. “I’ve already st... stocked the fridge.”

“Yes, please take them down,” said Mrs. Minnett. “You’ll find some vases in the kitchen. I’m sure they will brighten up the place for our guest. Everyone loves fresh roses.”

“I know I do!” said Justin. He touched one of the petals with his finger. It was like satin. And it was bright red, like blood. He breathed in the scent of the bouquet, heady and deep. “Is Mr. Kinney going to stay long?”

“I don’t know, my dear,” Mrs. Minnett replied. “But he’s welcome to stay as long as he wishes – just as you are.”

“Thanks again for letting me st...stay here,” Justin said. “It’s peaceful here. I can think without... without having my head all... all...” Justin squinted, trying to think of the word. He sometimes had to stop and search for the right word or phrase. He knew what he wanted to say, but often the words were just out of reach, like a ripe piece of fruit dangling over his head. “All cluttered. It’s too noisy at home. Too much going on. I can’t... can’t focus.” He put his hand up against his forehead, feeling the throbbing beginning again. “I better take my medication before I bring the flowers down to the cottage.”

“Yes, Justin,” said Mrs. Minnett gently. “Take your medicine. There’s no hurry. I don’t expect Mr. Kinney until this evening.”

Justin nodded and went to his room, leaving the bundle of roses on the table. Mrs. Minnett picked them up. They were beautiful. Charles had loved roses. 

But Mr. Kinney...

Lindsay Peterson had warned her that Brian Kinney would be a difficult guest, quite unlike Justin, who was a darling boy. But even the normally sunny Justin had bad days – very bad days. The seizures didn’t come as often or hit him as strongly as they had at first, before the doctors adjusted his medication, but they still came nonetheless. That was one of the reasons he had come to Las Encantadas – his seizures and nightmares and rages had made his poor mother despair of him. And with the woman in the middle of a nasty divorce, with a small daughter to think of, Mrs. Minnett’s offer to let Justin stay at her estate was a godsend.

Mrs. Minnett understood Jennifer Taylor’s heartache – to see her brilliant and talented son reduced to a shell of himself, his head bashed in and his brain damaged almost beyond repair. But at least Justin was alive. Charles hadn’t been as lucky. When he’d been attacked, his bashers had finished the job, leaving his broken and bleeding body on the sidewalk not far from the bar he’d left on his way back to his dorm. By the time he was found, he was dead. 

But when Justin was attacked his best friend, a brave young girl named Daphne, had been right on his heels. She called the police and identified his attackers – some boys who were his own classmates, one a star football player. And the girl had testified against them all, even after being threatened, putting them away for their crime. Charles’ attackers had never been found – they were still out there in the world – somewhere. That thought haunted her.

That’s why Mrs. Abigail Minnett had dedicated herself to helping other victims of hate, like Justin Taylor. She had a huge estate and all the money in the world, but what good did it do her when her son was dead? If she could help a boy like Justin, it was as if a small part of Charlie might live again.

And now this Brian Kinney.

But he would be a much harder case. She’d been warned.

He wasn’t a young boy, but a grown man. Terribly injured. And terribly hardened. 

Lindsay Peterson was afraid for him. All of his friends were. He’d already tried to kill himself at least twice. He obviously believed he was at the end of his life, the end of his ability to cope. He’d never be what he was before, that was certain. But at least he was alive.

Alive. For now.

So perhaps the cottage, which Charlie as a child had always said was enchanted, could work its magic on this broken man.

Because it seemed it was Brian Kinney’s last chance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest stop.

Part 3

The Road to Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

The drive from Pittsburgh to Erie didn’t take that long, but it seemed an eternity to Brian.

He was unusually restless, which said something, because Brian Kinney was a man who defined the term restless. He stopped a few times along the way, always at an obscure rest area, avoiding the larger truck stops, to get out and stretch his legs. He’d walk a little and smoke a cigarette – he didn’t allow anyone, even himself, to smoke in his vintage Corvette Stingray. Then he’d sit for a while, thinking. He decided to turn back a number of times, but in the end he always got back in the car and continued on.

Fucking Mikey! And goddamn Lindsay!

He still couldn’t believe they’d talked him into this stupid move.

It had been all Lindsay’s idea. She had met this Mrs. Minnett at one of her Gay and Lesbian Center fundraisers. The woman had gotten some award for a program she’d founded to fight homophobia and harassment in the schools. A typical do-gooder, trying to change people. Trying to tell fucking straight people to be nice. Trying to coax them into not murdering us. 

Fat lot of good that shit does!

But it had been Michael who finally convinced him. The look on Michael’s face when he’d come to visit him in the hospital that last time. Brian passed the incident off. A mistake. A fuck up. You know, like in “Cabaret” – too much pills and liquor.

But Michael didn’t laugh. He didn’t buy into any of Brian’s usual bullshit excuses. He’d already lost too much.

“I don’t want to lose you, too,” he said to Brian in that hospital room. “I couldn’t take it. Maybe you don’t give a shit about your own life, but I do. I still care. You’re Brian Kinney, for fuck sake! And to me you’ll always be young and beautiful. Always. So please, Brian – try! Try to live! Try to go on! Even if not for yourself. Do it for me. Do it for Gus. For Lindsay. For Ma. Because we all still need you here. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

Brian didn’t say anything that day. He only closed his eyes and pretended to go to sleep. Finally, Michael went away. But Brian couldn’t forget his friend’s words.

And now here he was. On his way to Lady Do-Gooder’s fucking estate.

And a cozy cottage by the lake. Shit! What a place for Brian Kinney!

Peace. Quiet. Nature. And no fucking.

Unless there was a hot gamekeeper, like in “Lady Chatterley’s Lover.” Did rich people still have gamekeepers? Probably not. A hot handyman, then.

There had to be somebody worth fucking in Erie, Pa.

Brian was sitting on a picnic table, nursing his cigarette. He was right outside of Erie. There was no pausing again. No turning back now.

He heard a car pull up. Stop. A door open. Footsteps in the gravel.

“Hey, got a light?”

The voice was deep. Sexy. Roadside rest areas were infamous cruising spots. There were no other cars, no other drivers around. The perfect set-up. One last blowjob before his exile would be welcomed.

Brian turned around slowly.

He was young and hot. Tall, wearing cut-off jeans and a tight tank top. He gaped at Brian, his mouth falling open in dismay.

“Sorry!” He backed away. “I... I’m sorry I disturbed you!”

The guy fled back to his car and gunned it, peeling out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.

Brian watched him go dispassionately. There goes my last chance to get my rocks off, he thought.

He finished the cigarette, tossed it to the dirt, and headed into Erie and Mrs. Minnett’s estate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian arrives.

Part 4

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

Mrs. Minnett was surprised to see a dark green Corvette pull up and a tall, dark-haired man get out. He paused and surveyed the house before he went to the front door.

“Mara,” she said to the maid. “Please show Mr. Kinney to the library. I’ll be down in a moment.”

Brian Kinney. He was here alone, apparently. She would have to call Lindsay Peterson later and find out what had happened.

She glanced out the window once more, in the direction of the cottage. It was far from the house, on a bluff overlooking the lake and a tiny, desolate strand of beach. She wondered how long Mr. Kinney would manage to stay there – if he stayed at all.

 

***

 

Brian looked up when the woman walked into the library.

She was younger than he’d expected, in her early fifties, perhaps. Brian had assumed she was elderly. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the name – Abigail Minnett. Sounded like some stuffy old woman from New England. Funny how you prejudged people based on something as insubstantial as a name.

“Mr. Kinney,” she said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “May I call you Brian?”

She looked directly at him, never hesitating or flinching, as so many people did. She seemed like a direct kind of person. No nonsense. He liked that.

“Mrs. Minnett. I’m pleased to meet you. Brian is fine.”

She beamed up at him, almost flirtatiously. “You’re here so early! I was expecting Lindsay to come with you. She mentioned another friend, too, who would be accompanying you.”

Brian shook his head. “I ditched them. I prefer to do things at my own speed. And I wanted to bring my car. Just in case.”

Mrs. Minnett raised her eyebrows. “In the event of a speedy getaway?”

Brian couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since he’d smiled spontaneously. “Something like that.”

“This isn’t a hospital and it isn’t a prison,” she said. “The cottage is at your disposal, to use as you see fit. There are no strings or conditions attached. You may stay the night or a year, whichever you wish. It’s very secluded – it was built for privacy. That’s what I assume you require, Brian. Privacy. And that’s what you shall have – that is, if you stay.”

The woman was nice, he had to give her that. But the whole set-up still made him uneasy. “No offense, Mrs. Minnett, but I only came up here because Lindsay and Michael badgared me into it.”

Mrs. Minnett nodded. “Michael is your other friend? You know, Brian, they are only concerned for your welfare. They care for you very much. I understand that Lindsay’s little boy, Gus, is your son.”

Brian’s heart jumped when she said Gus’ name. He’d refused to see his son since the incident, although Lindsay told him that he asked about him constantly. “Yes. But Lindsay and her partner are raising him. I try to stay out of the picture – especially... now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Brian.” Mrs. Minnett walked across the room to a small portrait on the wall near the window. “This is my son Charles. It was painted when he was eight years old. It used to hang in my room, but I moved it here after... after he died. He loved the library and this view of the garden, so I knew it belonged here.”

Lindsay had told him some sob story about Mrs. Minnett’s son being killed, but he’d only vaguely listened. He looked at the painting of a blond boy standing with a large dog.

“I’m sure he did,” Brian said awkwardly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s been almost ten years, but the pain never goes away,” she said. “I treasure the time I had him. Don’t turn your back on your child, Brian, even if you think it’s for the best. Because it’s never for the best – and I don’t mean for Gus, but for you.”

“They live in Toronto,” Brian said flatly. “And my traveling days are over.”

“But you traveled here.” Mrs. Minnett glanced past him. “Justin – please come in. Mr. Kinney has arrived early.”

A short blond in his early twenties came into the room. He walked with a slight limp and his right hand was curled against his chest, protectively. He stared at Brian with sky blue eyes, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t frown or betray any fear or disgust. Instead he seemed merely curious.

“I... I didn’t take the f...flowers down yet, Mrs. Minnett,” he said.

“No matter. You can carry them down in the cart, Justin. Have Mr. Quigley help you take Mr. Kinney’s bags from his car.”

“You don’t have to call anyone,” said Brian, puffing out his chest. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own stuff. I don’t need any help.”

“The cottage is quite far from the main house and there’s no road,” said Mrs. Minnett. “You’ll have to leave your automobile here – there’s plenty of room in the garage for it. The only way to get down to the cottage is a rough path past the vineyard and through the woods. We use the golf cart to go so far, but then you’ll have to walk the remainder of the way. Justin will show you.”

“No road? You weren’t kidding when you said the place was private,” said Brian.

“It... it’s really nice,” the blond offered. “I l... love it there. It’s my f... favorite place on the estate.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brian appraised the twink. He had a nice ass.

“This is Justin,” said Mrs. Minnett. “He’ll be helping you out at the cottage.”

“I told you I don’t need anyone’s help,” Brian sniffed.

Mrs. Minnett narrowed her eyes at her new guest. “This is not a hotel, Brian. So you’ll be doing all your own cooking and cleaning and shopping? And running errands, too? In that case...”

“Wait a minute!” Brian hadn’t thought about that. He glanced at the twink again. “I don’t eat a lot.”

“G...good thing,” said Justin. “I’m not that great a c... cook. But I’ll do my best.”

“Justin is only here to make your stay easier, no more and no less.” Mrs. Minnett patted Justin on the shoulder. “I think you two should head down to the cottage and get settled. I’ll leave you to your own devices this evening, Brian, but I’d like you to join me for dinner tomorrow night. A small welcome to Las Encantadas. Would that be to your liking?”

“Sure,” said Brian. He was dying to get outside and have a cigarette. He wondered if he was allowed to smoke in the cottage. Maybe the kid was going to be there to spy on him. “Tomorrow night for dinner.”

“And you, too, Justin. Of course.”

The blond grinned. “I’d love to, M...Mrs. M... Minette! Thanks!”

“Good then.” Abigail Minnett headed for the door. “Now be off, the two of you. I’ll see you both tomorrow, 8:00 sharp.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cottage.

Part 5

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

“Th... this is the cottage,” said Justin, opening the door. “I’ll give you the key, but you won’t n... need it. We never lock our doors at Las Encantadas.”

Brian stepped over the threshold. “It’s bigger than I imagined. When Lindsay said a cottage, I thought Hansel and Gretel. Or Boy Scout camp. But this isn’t bad.”

“Th... there’s the fireplace. Mr. Quigley makes sure there’s plenty of wood on the pile outside. It can get ch... chilly down here by the water even in the summer. And over here’s your desk. Mrs. Minnett had cable and internet access put in. See? This is a new television. And a DVD player, too.”

Brian frowned. “She didn’t have that put in just for me, did she?”

Justin shrugged. “Sh... she was planning to do it anyway. But since you were coming...”

“I’ll have to reimburse her,” said Brian. He ran his hand over the desk. It wasn’t an antique, like most of the pieces in the main house, but it was solid mahogany, polished to a high sheen. “I have plenty of money from my insurance settlement and also my salary at Vangard. I may not be at the office every day, but I’m still a vital part of that organization. Gardner depends on my ideas and my input. I have a number of projects I’m working on right now. Very important projects for some of our biggest clients.”

“I’m s... sure you do, Mr. Kinney,” said Justin. He was holding the bunch of roses in his hand. He needed to get them into water soon. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, let me know. That’s what I’m here for. I can run errands for you, if you want. And I’ll bring down the mail every morning. And... and let me know what kind of food you like. I’ll tell Mara and she’ll order anything you want. If you don’t like my cooking... well, you can work something out with her and Mrs. Minnett.”

“I’m certain you’ll be fine,” said Brian. “I’m not fussy about what I eat.”

Justin raised his eyebrows at that. Brian Kinney seemed the kind of man who was fussy about every aspect of his life. “Whatever you say, Mr. Kinney.”

“And stop calling me Mr. Kinney,” Brian said. “It makes me feel a hundred years old. This isn’t my office. And you’re not my servant.”

“Okay... Brian,” Justin said. “I need to find a v... vase. Then I’ll b... bring in the rest of your things.”

“I’ll bring in my own bags, thank you very much.” He watched the blond go into what he assumed was the kitchen. The kid did have a great ass. Too bad about everything else.

Brian went out and brought his larger suitcase inside. He also had a smaller bag, his computer case, briefcase, and a bunch of odds and ends in a couple of shopping bags. And his booze. He was glad he’d brought a decent supply, because there didn’t seem to be a liquor store anywhere in the vicinity. They’d carried everything from the end of the larger path, beyond which the golf cart couldn’t go. Luckily, the kid wasn’t holding the booze or the computer, because he dropped the smaller bag once and one of the heavier shopping bags twice on the way from the cart. Brian couldn’t imagine how he was supposed to cook and clean up around the cottage, since he didn’t even seem able to carry out a simple task without fucking it up.

Justin came out of the kitchen with the bouquet of roses in a silver vase. Brian detested roses, but he guessed they’d been sent down by Mrs. Minnett, so it wouldn’t do to refuse them.

“Wh... where do you want me to p... put these?” the kid asked.

“Not on the desk,” Brian said quickly. “Wherever. Somewhere out of the way.” He just wanted the kid to leave so he could set up his laptop and pour himself a stiff Bourbon.

“How about here?” Justin set the vase on the side table near the door.

That’s when Brian noticed it. A large gilt-framed mirror over the table. 

“Get that out!” he said, trying to control his voice. 

Justin stopped. “Th... the roses?”

“No!” Brian shouted. “That fucking mirror! Get it out of here! Now!”

“S... Sure.” Justin set the vase on the table and tried to lift the mirror away from the wall. But it was heavy and solidly in place. “I... I can’t do it.”

“Then call someone down here who can!” Brian spat, turning away.

“I’ll have M... Mr. Quigley come down tomorrow and help m... me,” said Justin. “There’s a m... mirror in your bedroom, too. And the bathroom.”

“I want them all gone – or covered up!” Brian shouted. “I thought I made that clear before I agreed to come here?”

“I... I didn’t know,” said Justin, wincing under Brian’s tirade. “I’ll get some sheets and c... cover them all up. Will that be all right?”

“Yes!” said Brian. “I’ll bring the rest of the bags in, since you can’t even manage that! You’re fucking useless!”

“I’m s... sorry,” Justin whispered. “Would you like me to make something for you to eat?”

“No! I’m not hungry. Just do the mirrors and then get the hell out.”

Justin hesitated. “Um... Mr. Kinney? I’m going to be sleeping in the c... cottage. Back there in the little room next to the k... kitchen. In case you want anything.”

Brian stared at he kid. “You’re going to be staying here? Right in this cottage? With me?”

Justin tried to say yes, but the word wouldn’t escape his mouth, so he merely nodded.

“Like hell you are! What are you? A fucking spy? Did Lindsay and Mrs. Minnett send you down here to keep an eye on me? So I won’t off myself?”

Justin swallowed. Mrs. Minnett hadn’t said it in so many words, but he suspected that was exactly the reason she wanted him in the cottage.

“N... no, sir. I... I’m supposed to help you with things. This p... part of the estate is in a b...black hole. Most of the time your cellphone w... won’t work unless you w... walk up the path a ways. That’s why she thought it would b... be good if I stayed down here. I’ll b... be quiet. You’ll hardly know I... I’m here. I promise.”

Brian shook his head. This was all he needed! This fucking gimp breathing down his neck 24/7! “Fuck! We’ll see about this! I’ll talk to your boss tomorrow. That is if I don’t pack up and leave first thing in the goddamn morning!”

“Wh... whatever you want, Mr. Kinney,” said Justin.

“And stop calling me Mr. fucking Kinney! It’s Brian!” Brian huffed.

“R... right,” said Justin. “Whatever you want, B... Brian. Whatever you want.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian is at the end of his patience.

Part 6

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

Brian Kinney was at the end of his admittedly limited patience.

He was awakened by the sound of something crashing in the kitchen. And since the cottage was small, something crashing in the kitchen sounded like something crashing in his room, right next to his bed.

“What the fuck is going on?” he shouted.

Justin was kneeling on the floor, cleaning up a mess of broken eggs and crockery.

“I... I... d... dropped some eggs. And a b... b... b...” Justin was near tears with frustration.

“A what? A bowl! Say it, you fucking idiot!”

But Justin couldn’t get the word out. Brian Kinney merely standing in front of him made him shake, but Brian Kinney screaming and furious unnerved him so that he couldn’t function at all.

Brian turned around and stalked back to the bedroom in disgust. A shower. That’s what he needed to cool off. By the time he was clean and dry he’d calmed down – a little. He went back to the kitchen. The mess on the floor had been cleaned up and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon was sitting on the table. They were a little cold, but still edible. And Justin was nowhere to be seen.

Brian ate the eggs and bacon and helped himself to some freshly brewed coffee that was in the pot. It wasn’t bad. He poured himself another cup and took it out to the desk. 

He spent the rest of the morning setting up his computer and printer and arranging his papers. Brian liked everything just so. If this was going to be his office, then he wanted it to feel like his office. He pulled out his cell and tried to call Gardner Vance. No signal. Then he remembered. The cottage was in a black hole. He couldn’t get even a single block.

Fuck.

He tried his internet access and had better luck with that, connecting with Vangard almost immediately. He sent an e-mail to Gardner, another to Cynthia, and a third to Murphy, informing them that he was at his remote office and that anything that needed his attention should be forwarded to him ASAP.

Then he sat back and waited.

And waited.

There was a fucking clock on the mantel that ticked. Probably another one of Mrs. Minnett’s antiques. He hated antiques. He wanted to smash it, but he didn’t dare. It was probably a priceless family heirloom. He hated priceless family heirlooms.

Brian stood up and stretched. Then he explored the cottage.

He noted that the mirror in the living was still in place, the sheet Justin had covered it with the night before still hanging over the surface. The kid had covered the ones in the bathroom and the bedroom the same way, with sheets, for a quick fix. He saw no sign of this Mr. Quigley who was supposed to come and take the fucking things away.

Maybe Quigley was the handyman. It was too much to hope that he was a hot young stud with poor eyesight.

The living room that served as his office was the largest room in the cottage. The next largest was his bedroom, which faced the lake and featured a large leaded glass window that was obviously supposed to be quaint. Brian hated quaint. The king-sized bed was comfortable, but the decor was hideously faux-British. The whole place was decorated that way, like the set of a cheap 1940’s drawing-room comedy. Brian expected that Noel Coward would have felt right at home in the cottage.

The saving grace was the bathroom, which was thankfully modern. It had a large shower and a separate tub with a Jacuzzi. 

Upstairs were two more small bedrooms and a joint bathroom. Justin had covered the mirrors in those rooms, too. At least the fucking kid had done something right.

Brian went into the kitchen. Still no sign of Justin. Another bedroom and bath – the smallest of all – stood off the kitchen. He wasn’t in there, either, but his things were. Clothes hanging in the closet. A pair of sneakers kicked over on the floor next to discarded socks, one red, one dark blue. Maybe the kid was color-blind.

A portable CD player and a few CD’s were on the nightstand. Moby. Some generic hip hop compilation. Dave Matthews. Typical college kid shit. But a few unexpected choices, too. An early Bob Dylan. Billie Holiday. The original casts of ‘A Chorus Line’ and ‘Rent.’ That must be the gay boy expressing himself. 

There were some books piled on the floor since there was no shelf or desk. ‘The Great Gatsby.’ A couple of science fiction things. And thick art books. One was open to a photograph of Michelangelo’s David. Maybe the kid was taking a class. But Brian doubted that highly.

Brian walked out the kitchen door at the back of the cottage. There was a little garden there that looked well-kept. Herbs and rows of vegetables – tomatoes, zucchini, peas. Brian circled to the front and followed the dirt path down towards the lake.

At the top of the bluff was a sharp and rocky drop to a tiny beach. Lake Erie was choppy in early September, whitecaps bobbing in the stiff wind from Canada, gulls keening as they skimmed the surface, but the sun was bright and warm overhead. Brian had left his sunglasses inside, so he squinted as he looked down and saw Justin walking along the sand.

The boy strolled back and forth in ragged khaki shorts and a tee shirt, his bare feet edging the water as it came up onto the sand and then retreated. His arms and legs were as pale as bone, his hair golden in the sunlight. He paused and bent down, picking up a small stone and then skipping it out into the lake. He dipped his hand in the tide and splashed himself, shaking the water from his hair.

Suddenly Justin turned and looked up. He saw Brian, looming like a shadow high on the bluff.

He blinked.

And the man was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian learns some hard truths from Mrs. Minnett.

Part 7

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

“Would you like a little more wine, Brian?” Mrs. Minnett assumed the answer was yes and indicated that Mara refill his glass. “2002 was an excellent year.”

Brian watched the wine splash into the glass, deeply crimson. It was the Las Encantadas Charlot, the wine from Mrs. Minnett’s own vineyard, a dry red French hybrid that grew well in the uncharitable Erie climate. Brian had been surprised to find the shores of Lake Erie lined with acre after acre of grape vines, basking in the late summer sun, yielding a pungent vintage. But Brian was no wine connoisseur – all he cared was that it was alcohol and there was plenty of it.

Justin was drinking water, as usual. He couldn’t touch alcohol because it interacted with his medication and might touch off a seizure.

“There are some lovely parks in this area,” said Mrs. Minnett. “Like Presque Isle. And Chautauqua is just over the line into New York. Justin can show you some very interesting places to explore, can’t you, my dear?”

Justin nodded. “I... I’d be happy to, Mrs. Minnett.”

“I didn’t come here to sightsee,” Brian said bluntly. “I have work to do.” If Gardner ever bothers to send me any, he added silently.

“Of course, Brian,” Mrs. Minnett said serenely. “How is your steak?”

“Perfect.” And it was. A New York strip, tender and extremely rare. All the food was perfect. Mrs. Minnett had made certain of it.

“And your pasta, Major?” she asked the third guest, who was a vegetarian.

“Splendid, Abigail,” said Major John Hillgrove. “Mara has outdone herself.”

“I had a small hand in it, as well,” Mrs. Minnett commented. “I’m not the cook Mara is, but I can saute capers without ruining them too badly. But we missed Justin in the kitchen today.”

“I... I would have come up and helped, b... but I was b... b... busy,” Justin lied. Every time he’d tried to do something in the cottage, Brian had ordered him out, saying that he got on his nerves.

“I’m sure you were, my dear,” said Mrs. Minnett. “Getting settled in a new place is always such a aggravation. But Justin knows the cottage very well, Brian. When he first came here, he and his mother, Jennifer, stayed down there. How long has it been, my dear? My memory isn’t what it was.”

“Over th... three years,” said Justin. “Hardly seems possible I’ve been here th... that long!”

“Three years!” Mrs. Minnett exclaimed. “I can’t believe it, either!”

“Three years,” Brian grumbled. “No wonder he’s a fucking head case.”

“What did you say, Brian?” Mrs. Minnett asked sharply.

Brian looked away. “Nothing. Can I have more wine?”

“Certainly.” Mrs. Minnett nodded to Mara to refill Mr. Kinney’s glass once again.

“If you will excuse me,” said the Major. “I need to walk Harvey.” The yellow Lab at his feet stood up at the mention of his name and wagged his thick tail.

Brian stood up, too. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh, no!” said the Major. “I know this place like the back of my hand. I ought to – I’ve been living in the carriage house for over twenty years. I’m as much a fixture around here as Abigail’s antiques. In fact, I’m quite an antique myself these days.”

“Let me c... come, Major,” said Justin, pushing back his chair. “I n... need some fresh air.” He took the Major’s elbow and they both went out through the double doors to the veranda.

Brian waited until the pair were out of sight. “How did it happen? The Major, I mean. He seems like a nice guy.”

Mrs. Minnett regarded Brian evenly. “He is. He’s my oldest and dearest friend. He was also my husband’s best friend and the best man at our wedding. And Charlie’s godfather.”

Brian toyed with his glass. “And?”

“He lost his sight in Vietnam. It was towards the end of the war. A grenade explosion. He was in a Veterans Hospital for a long time.”

Brian shuddered. “I noticed the burns on his face. That’s a bitch.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Minnett. “He needed skin grafts. And he needed a lot of psychological treatment, as well. He was a lost soul for a long time. Then my husband brought him here and moved him into the carriage house. It was difficult at first, but he found his place on the estate. Now John Hillgrove has one of the finest palates in the wine business.”

“Palate? As in taste?”

“Yes. He’s a wine taster. The Major is our quality control expert. He’s also greatly in demand at many of the Great Lakes wineries in Pennsylvania, New York, and Ohio. He gives classes on selecting wines.”

“So,” Brian said skeptically. “Getting blown up in Vietnam was the gateway to a new and fascinating career, right?”

“No.” Mrs. Minnett’s gaze was steely. “It was a way for him to survive. To find a way to live. It hasn’t been easy for him. But nothing in life is easy, Brian.”

“If I wanted platitudes, I’d open a fucking fortune cookie.” Brian drained his wine glass. “Excuse my language.”

“You’ve asked about the Major,” she said. “But you haven’t asked me anything about Justin. I thought you’d be curious, especially since he’s living in the cottage with you.”

“About that...” Brian paused. It was obvious the woman felt sorry for the kid. “It isn’t working out. To be blunt, the kid drives me up a wall. He creeps around the place, trying to be quiet, but that just makes him more annoying. He drops everything he picks up. And he can’t answer a simple question without sputtering and blubbering for ten solid minutes! It’s hard enough trying to deal with being here and all the other crap without having a babbling idiot underfoot in a small space!”

Mrs. Minnett swirled her wine in the glass pensively before sipping it. “Is that how you see Justin? As a babbling idiot?”

Brian shrugged. It sounded harsh, but he had to be honest. He was always honest, even when it hurt. “I call it as I see it.”

“Perhaps you’d like to see something else.” Mrs. Minnett got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later. She was carrying a leather portfolio. She set it down on an empty spot on the long table and unzipped it. “You might want to take a look at these.”

Brian rolled his eyes, but he looked. They were mainly pencil sketches, but also some pastels and watercolors. Portraits of a dark, laughing girl, a blonde woman, a child. A study of a denim jacket hanging on a closet door. Some books leaning on a shelf. Boys playing football. Another boy diving into a pool.

“What am I looking at?” Brian asked.

“Are they good?” Mrs. Minnett questioned.

“I don’t know,” said Brian. “I’m no art critic.”

“But you’re a visual man,” she replied. “You’re in advertising. You deal in imagery. You know what works and what doesn’t. So tell me – are these good? Do they show talent?”

Brian picked up one of the portraits of the dark girl. Her eyes were warm and direct. The shading of her face, the tendrils of her hair – she was a real person. She was alive in this drawing.

“Yes,” said Brian. “They’re good.”

“Would you hire this person at your agency?”

Brian considered. “I guess so.” He looked at the sketches again. “Yes, I would. They show talent. Creativity. They make a direct connection with the viewer.”

Mrs. Minnett straightened the drawings and zipped up the leather portfolio. “These are Justin’s work.”

Brian was shocked. “That kid did these?”

“Yes. Before he was injured Justin was a very promising artist. He’d been accepted at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art and they only take a few out of hundreds of applicants.”

Brian sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t bother to ask,” said Mrs. Minnett.

Brian was sorry he’d finished his wine. But now he wanted – needed – something stronger. “What happened to him?”

“He was being harassed at his school, but he didn’t tell his parents because he was afraid of their reaction if they learned he was gay. The only person he confided in was his friend, Daphne. She’s the young girl in the drawings. They attended his prom together. The boys who’d been bullying him got drunk and decided to ‘deal’ with him once and for all. Justin went out to the parking garage to get his mother’s car and they were waiting for him. The beat him severely. One of the young men had a baseball bat.”

“Jesus!” Brian felt a chill go through him.

“Justin was in a coma for weeks and sustained extensive damage to his brain. When he came out of it, he had to learn to walk and talk and perform simple functions all over again. His memory was also badly affected, which was probably a blessing. He couldn’t remember most of the previous year, including the attack.”

“I hope they put the fucking bastards away!” Brian said, his fists clenched.

“They did,” said Mrs. Minnett. “Justin’s friend testified at the trial about what had been happening to him at St. James Academy, proving the assault was premeditated. But getting justice wasn’t enough to put his life back the way it was. He was in a rehabilitation center for over a year – you might know something about those, Brian. While he was there his parents divorced and his mother had to go to work. She was having a difficult time dealing with his issues, not to mention the cost of his treatment. I heard about Justin’s case from PFLAG and offered him a place here.” 

Mrs. Minnett paused, watching Brian’s face. Yes, she thought, he’s still a beautiful man – if you bother to look for it.

“When Justin arrived at Las Encantadas,” she continued. “He was a sullen, sick, and very damaged young man. He regularly had seizures and his entire right side was only semi-functional. That was the hardest thing for him – he could no longer hold a pencil to draw. He still can’t control his hand well, although it’s better than it was. And his general movement has greatly improved – at first he could barely make it across the lawn and now he walks all over the estate. He doesn’t move quickly or easily, but he manages. But the worst loss is of his talent. He’ll never be what he was meant to be – an artist. That has been taken from him forever.”

“Shit,” Brian whispered.

“I would say so,” Mrs. Minnett replied. “Shit, indeed.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Brian and Justin take a surprising turn...

Part 8

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

When he got back to the cottage after leaving the main house, Brian checked his e-mail. There was a single message – from Cynthia, wishing him well at his new location and promising to keep him apprised of all the office gossip at Vangard.

“Except I don’t want any fucking gossip!” Brian yelled at the screen. “Where the hell is Gardner? What about my clients? What the fuck am I supposed to be doing in this goddamn Gingerbread House?”

Justin came through the door quietly. It was impossible for him to keep up with Brian’s long strides, so he’d lagged behind. It had been a stressful day and all he wanted was to get into bed and sleep.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Brian snapped as he shut down his computer.

“N... nothing,” said Justin. He took a deep breath. “You.”

“Well, don’t look at me.” Brian went to the side table where he’d lined up his bottles. He was already half-sloshed from all that wine he’d had with dinner, but he was just getting warmed up. “Don’t bother. I don’t need your pitying gazes.”

“I wasn’t pitying you,” Justin returned.

“Bully for you.” Brian loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. “Do you mind if I have a little privacy? If I’m going to stay here, then the last thing I need is you, gaping at me.”

“I don’t g... gape,” said Justin. “As long as we’re going to be living here together, you’re g... going to have to t... trust me.”

“We’re not living together!” Brian retorted. “I don’t need a maid or a babysitter, so you can pack up your shit and go back to the big house.”

Justin stared at the man. And stood his ground. “Mrs. Minnett asked me to c... come down here and stay with you – and I s... said I would. I m... made a promise to her and I plan to keep it.” 

“Why?” Brian lashed out. “So I wouldn’t drink too much? Too late!” He held up a glass of Bourbon. “When I finish this bottle, I’ll start on the vodka!”

“G... go ahead,” said Justin. “Drink yourself into a st... stupor if that’s what makes you happy. If that’s how you want to w... waste your life.”

Brian laughed bitterly. “What I do with my life is no one’s fucking business – especially not yours. And if Mrs. Minnett wants you to keep an eye on me because she’s afraid I’ll kill myself – your presence wouldn’t stop me!”

“I know,” Justin shrugged. “I kn... know what you think of me. I know you’d n... never listen to me. But I’m st... staying anyway.”

“I don’t think anything of you,” Brian huffed. “I don’t give you a fucking thought!”

“Except to th... think I’m a babbling idiot,” Justin replied.

Brian stopped cold. The kid was watching him, standing stock still, except for a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You heard me say that?”

“I was on the v... veranda while the Major was walking Harvey. I may be a b... babbling idiot, but at least I’m not a f... fucking asshole. If th... that’s what you want to be, g... good luck with it. But let me do m... my job. What gives you the r... right to judge anyone else? You’re no better than me. You’re just another f... freak, like me. Afraid to sh... show your face to the world. That’s why you’re hiding here. Well, keep hiding! Drink yourself s... silly or dead or whatever! But d... don’t call me names again! I mean it.”

Justin suddenly felt exhausted. He leaned against the sofa, steadying himself. He felt a tingling in the pit of his stomach. And then an acrid burning odor. He knew what that meant – and he braced himself.

“Listen, kid,” said Brian. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I’m pissed off at myself. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Hey...” Brian frowned. The kid looked a little sick. “Justin? Are you all right?”

Justin clutched at the arm of the sofa, but then he slipped to the floor. His body was shaking uncontrollably, his eyes rolling and his teeth clenched.

“Justin!” Brian cried, kneeling next to him. “Stop it!” He held Justin tightly, trying to stop the convulsions. “Please! Fucking stop!” He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and flipped it open to call 911, but there were no bars. “Fuck!” Brian threw the useless device across the room and clung to the stricken boy in real terror.

I’ve killed him, thought Brian. It’s my fault! He’d going to die right here, in my arms.

But slowly the seizure subsided. Justin’s pulse was racing, but his eyes began to focus and his body calmed.

“Say something!” Brian begged. “I need to get you to a doctor!”

“N... no,” Justin whispered. “Help me sit up.” Brian pulled the boy against him, setting him upright. “Thanks. Give me a m... minute.”

“Let me go up to the house and get Mrs. Minnett,” said Brian. “Where’s the nearest hospital?”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t n... need a hospital. I had a seizure, but now it’s over. I... I’m okay.”

Brian swallowed hard. “Like fuck you’re okay! I thought you were dying!”

“I’ll be f... fine. Help me stand.” Brian got to his feet and then helped Justin. He wavered slightly, but then seemed to get his bearings. “I n... need to get to my bed or I’ll fall asleep right here.”

“Fall sleep?”

Justin nodded. “It h... happens like that when I have a s... seizure. Once I went to sleep in the m... middle of a sentence. C... could you help me to my room?”

“No fucking way!” said Brian. “That scared the piss out of me! How do I know you’ll be all right?”

“I’m f... fine,” said Justin. “No need for you to worry about me.”

“You’re sleeping with me tonight,” Brian announced. “In case it happens again.”

“It w... won’t,” Justin assured him. “I haven’t had one in ages. I pr... probably won’t have another for m... months. Take me to my room, okay?”

“Fuck that!” Brian picked Justin up in his arms. Even though he was much thinner than he’d been, Brian was still able to carry the kid into the bedroom and dump him on the bed. “I won’t be able to sleep a wink worrying... Justin?” He poked the kid with his finger, but he seemed sound asleep. “Justin?” He was asleep. That was almost as freaky as the seizure.

Brian undressed Justin. He really seemed to be in a deep but normal sleep, his breathing regular, with no twitching or strange movements. Brian took off his own clothes and got into the bed beside him.

It felt odd to have a body next to him after so long. The fucks he’d had since the incident weren’t the kind that included staying in bed with the person afterwards. Most of his fucks even before didn’t include many sleepovers. He’d spent more times over the years in bed with Michael than with any of his sex partners.

But Justin wasn’t a fuck. And he wasn’t a friend, either. He was nothing to him, really.

Nothing.

Justin made a soft sound and moved closer, but he was still sleeping heavily. Maybe the kid was fine, but Brian sure as hell wasn’t fine. He’d been frightened as badly as...

As badly as he’d been in a long time.

But not frightened for himself. For someone else.

There’d been nothing he could do for the others. Not back then. Nothing. They’d died. And he’d lived. But for what?

For nothing? His life was a fucking joke. A waste.

He thought about the drawings Mrs. Minnett had shown him. Justin’s artwork. He’d never draw again. Those homophobic assholes had seen to that, just as some other homophobic asshole had... had... done what he’d done. Who the hell knew why?

But he wasn’t going to let anything happen to this kid! Not to Justin, who’d already suffered so much. No fucking way!

He wrapped his arms around Justin. Yes, it felt strange, but he didn’t want to let go. Not tonight.

Brian closed his eyes and for the first time in many, many months slept without fear in the shelter of the cottage. Slept without the nightmares that had haunted him ever since the bombing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes for Justin.

Part 9

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

Even before he opened his eyes, Justin knew everything in his life had changed radically.

He was in bed.

With someone else.

With Brian.

But he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there.

The last thing he remembered was the seizure. As seizures went, it wasn’t the worst one he’d ever had. The worst were those he’d had in the hospital right after the bashing, before they got them under control with medication. And he had a few nasty ones at his mom’s place, until they re-adjusted those meds. But since he’d been living at Mrs. Minnett’s most of the incidents had been minor¬– until last night.

He wondered what had touched it off. Maybe his exhaustion. Or the rich food. Or the general stress he’d been under since Brian’s arrival.

Brian.

That was the thing.

Brian was... what was the word he wanted? A... a distraction. Yes, that was the word, but it still wasn’t exactly what he meant. Brian was... was... was...

“Ummm...” Brian grunted as he roused, moving closer to Justin, hooking his arm tighter around him.

That’s when Justin felt it. Poking into him from behind.

Brian’s erection. Hard, insistent, and right up against his ass.

Justin froze.

What did they do last night? Probably nothing. He would remember if they’d done anything... wouldn’t he?

Shit! What if he’d had sex for the first time and couldn’t remember it!

But... his ass would remember. He’d still feel it... wouldn’t he? Even though he’d never had sex, Justin had read enough to know that his ass would probably be sore the next morning. And it felt fine. Felt the same.

Unfortunately.

Besides, Brian Kinney might be a jerk and an asshole, but was he the kind of guy who’d fuck a comatose guy with a gimp hand and leg and a bashed-in brain? Justin didn’t think so.

Brian had seemed so scared after the seizure. He’d wanted to call 911. Take Justin to the hospital. He really must have been freaked out. People always were if they’d never seen someone have convulsions before. Justin’s mother always went into hysterics after she saw it. That’s one of the reasons Justin had agreed to come to Las Encantadas in the first place – Jennifer’s reaction depressed him. Annoyed him. Then angered him. She babied him. Treated him like a fucking infant. But he was still the same person. Damaged, maybe, but the same. He wasn’t a child. Wasn’t an infant who needed someone hovering over him all fucking day and all fucking night!

Mrs. Minnett and the Major never treated him like that. Or Mr. Quigley or Mara. Even when it was difficult for him to do something, they never jumped in and tried to do it for him. They let him go at his own pace, doing things his own way. They treated him like a human being and not the sum of his symptoms. Not like a problem to be fixed.

Justin held his breath as Brian sighed and turned over onto his back. He was still fast asleep.

How had people treated Brian? Justin wondered.

Probably not the way he wanted to be treated, which was as if he were normal. As if he were the way he’d been before.

Before the bomb.

Justin shuddered. Mrs. Minnett told him a little of Brian’s story, but not everything. She’d said that if Brian wanted to offer any more information, he’d do it in his own good time, just as Justin had. Of course, Justin didn’t remember anything about his bashing. He didn’t remember much of anything from even months before – and even when he did, it was sketchy and disconnected fragments.

But Brian – he remembered it all, clearly and horribly. At least that’s what his friend, Lindsay Peterson, had told Mrs. Minnett.

Justin remembered hearing about the bombing of the gay club on the news. He’d already been living at Las Encantadas for over a year and making good progress. It was in the spring, March, Justin thought. He remembered it was still cold outside. Then he slowly and carefully read the headline in a Pittsburgh newspaper Mrs. Minnett had delivered: “Explosion at Gay Club Kills 12, Injures Scores.”

Brian had been one of those “scores.”

“Some of his friends were killed,” Mrs. Minnett revealed before Brian arrived. “He was badly hurt and spent a long time in rehab. I’m sure you’ll be understanding of how difficult that is for anyone, let alone a very independent man like Mr. Kinney.”

Justin had understood. He... what was the fucking word? Empathized. And he was curious – very curious indeed. He’d gotten onto Mrs. Minnett’s computer in her office and looked up information on Brian A. Kinney of Pittsburgh, Pa. He was a successful advertising executive. He’d worked on the mayoral campaign of James Stockwell, but been fired, according to ‘Pittsburgh OUT,’ because Stockwell learned he was gay. An editorial in the ‘Pittsburgh Gazette’ speculated that his firing had been the turning point in Stockwell losing the race. There were a number of pictures of Kinney on the web – with Stockwell, winning an award as ad man of the year, and a picture accompanying one of the articles on the bombing. All showed a tall, handsome, well-dressed, and confident man. Justin saved the pictures and spent a lot of time looking at them. Wondering about the man with whom he’d soon be sharing the cottage.

Justin propped himself up on his good arm and gazed at that same man, now in bed beside him. His face was veiled in the dim morning light. His nose, the planes of his cheeks and forehead, his chin, his long black eyelashes, his curving brows – Justin could see the vanished beauty there. He was like the shell of a magnificent house – you could still see the outlines of the rooms and the details that remained and imagine what it had been in its glory.

How many of his friends had died? And what did it feel like to be alive, but only as a shadow of your former self?

Brian opened his eyes slowly. His eyes were deep green with golden specks. Justin hadn’t noticed that before. They were beautiful eyes.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Brian demanded.

“You,” said Justin calmly. “W... waiting for you to wake up. Do you want b... breakfast?

Brian frowned and glanced around the room. Then he looked at Justin again and his expression softened. “Last night... are you okay? You fell asleep so quickly and so soundly and... I didn’t know what to do.”

“It h... happens sometimes,” Justin revealed. “But I’m f... fine now. But I’m hungry. I can m... make pancakes if you want.”

“I don’t know...”

“I m... make really good pancakes. I’ve even made them f... for Mrs. Minnett and the M... Major. I p... put vanilla in the batter. The Major likes his with G... Grand Marnier.”

“I’d like that, too,” said Brian, smiling. Brian’s face looked completely different when he smiled. Younger. More vulnerable. Almost shy.

“Too b... bad we don’t have any.” Justin smiled back. “But I h... have orange juice and it’s almost the same.”

Brian snorted. “If you think Grand Marnier and orange juice are the same thing, then you really don’t know anything about liquor!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Justin replied. “I’m a c... country club boy. I know a lot about drinking. All my parents’ friends d... drink like fishes. And I can mix a martini with the b... best of them.”

“Maybe you will come in handy after all,” Brian conceded.

“You’d be surprised,” said Justin. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll st... start breakfast?”

Brian nodded and got out of bed. Justin saw his back, which was broad and still muscular, but covered on the right side with raw-looking scars where the skin had been burned. The red skin looked painful. Justin had a sudden urge to kiss those scars. Instead he watched Brian pad into the bathroom.

Justin got up and pulled on his pants, his heart thumping. He was feeling something he’d never in his life felt before. Something emanating from deep within. Something that made him feel hot and cold, all at the same time. 

And it made him very afraid.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is surprised by Brian.

Part 10

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

Harvey woofed and thumped his tail against the floor when Justin came into the winery office.

“It’s m... me, Major. I’m here to pick up Brian’s mail.”

The Major stopped typing on his Braille typewriter and patted his dog fondly. “I knew it was you, Justin. Harvey is always so pleased to see you.”

“We’re buddies,” said Justin, rubbing Harvey’s head.

“It doesn’t hurt that you slip him a piece of bacon now and then,” the Major pointed out.

“He deserves it.” Justin sorted through the pile of mail in the In-Basket, picking out the envelopes for Brian. “Here are those t... tearsheets from ‘The Advocate’ Brian’s been waiting for. And something from his friend M... Michael, too. Probably comic books. He owns a comic book store.”

“Does Brian Kinney read comic books?” asked the Major.

“N... no, but he still likes to get things from M... Michael,” said Justin. “He’s Brian’s oldest friend. I think he misses his p... partner.”

The Major shook his head sadly. “Was he one of the people killed in the bombing?”

“Yes,” said Justin. “B... Brian never talks about it, but I kind of figured it out when he was t... telling me about Michael..”

“So he never speaks of that night?”

“No.” Justin contemplated the envelope from Pittsburgh. “But I know he has dreams about it. Or n... nightmares. I used to have n... nightmares, too, but I could never remember them, just like I could never r... remember the attack. I used to hate that – having a b... big chunk of my life missing from my memory. But now I think it’s not so bad. It’s a b... blank instead of something I can never get out of my head.”

The Major gazed into space. “There are certain things a person can never erase. Things you’re seen. Things you’ve experienced. Good or bad, they are a part of life. Brian will have to deal with those memories all of his life.”

“I know,” said Justin. “I wish I could help him. Some n... nights I hear him c... crying out and I go into his room to see if there’s anything I can do, but he always says he’s okay. But I know he’s not okay. He’s f... far from okay.” Justin sighed. “At least Mr. Vance is sending him w... work to do. For a while there Brian was just s... sitting at his computer, staring at the screen, pretending to be doing something. But now he really is w... working. On a campaign for a new gay travel site.”

The Major raised his eyebrows. “Is there a lot of call for that?”

“Oh, yeah!” said Justin. “Gay travel is a huge b... business. And Brian’s been to all of the places they feature on the site – South Beach, Maui, Palm Springs, Key West, Provincetown, Ibiza. I wish I could go to those places. M... maybe one day.”

“I don’t understand the whole computer culture,” said the Major. “I suppose I’ll never understand something I can’t see.”

“Th... there are computers that work on voice recognition,” said Justin. “And special software for the b... blind. I w... was reading up on it. If you wanted to try it, I’m sure Mrs. Minnett would order it. You c... could talk to people all over the world!”

The Major turned back to his typewriter. “This is my world, Justin. Las Encantadas and the winery and Harvey and Mrs. Minnett and everyone here. I’m happy using my typewriter and reading my old Braille books and listening to the radio.”

Justin looked around the office. It suddenly seemed very small and crowded. He really liked the Major and he loved Las Encantadas, but ever since Brian had arrived he’d begun to think about his life beyond the estate. One day Brian would leave here – and Justin dreamed that he would leave with him. One day. It was just a dream, but you never knew – it could happen!

Ever since the night Justin had the seizure, Brian had been extra nice to him. At first Justin thought it was because Brian was afraid if he yelled at him, he’d have another one. And maybe that was true – at first. But now Brian actually seemed to like him. Or at least they were getting along.

Brian could be grumpy, especially in the morning, and he often made sharp comments that could sting – if you took what he said literally. Some days he thundered at Justin until he was ready to cry. But Justin held onto his emotions – that was something he’d been unable to do for a long time. He, too, would scream and rail at his mother and father, his therapists, even poor Daphne. It was impossible for him to keep his anger under control. But slowly he struggled to rein in his feelings, especially his negative feelings. And in Brian, Justin saw himself – a damaged person trying to be what he once was. Trying to be what other people considered normal.

Justin had also seen another side of Brian. A softer, more vulnerable side. He’d heard him talking on the phone to Michael one afternoon while he was sitting on the bluff overlooking the lake. That was one of the few places near the cottage where you could get cellphone service. Justin was coming up from the beach and accidently heard Brian’s end of the conversation. This was a gentle and soothing Brian, a Brian who obviously cared deeply for his friend. A Brian he wanted to know more about.

And then an envelope from Canada came in the mail. It was from Brian’s son, Gus, who lived with his moms in Toronto. Brian kept a photograph of Gus, a smiling, dark-haired boy, next to his bed. Brian took the envelope and opened it slowly. Justin retreated to the sofa, but didn’t leave the room. He watched as Brian looked at some drawings Gus had made, a letter in crayon, and a picture of Gus at a birthday party, with a cake decorated with the number 6.

“My son’s party,” said Brian. He put the photo on the desk. “I wasn’t there. I’ll never be there again. Never.”

And then the man broke down.

Justin didn’t even stop to think. He immediately went to Brian and put his arms around him. He’d never thought a man like Brian – so strong, so independent, so I-don’t-give-a-fuck – could cry like that, but he did. And when he was finished, Justin, his shirt wet with tears, went into his room, while Brian went into his, and they never mentioned it again. But now there was something between them. A bond. They’d each seen the other in their most raw, exposed moment. A moment they’d never share with anyone else.

“Justin!” Mrs. Minnett came into the office. “There’s a delivery for you from UPS.”

“It m... must be from Vangard,” said Justin.

“No,” said Mrs. Minnett. “It’s for you, not Brian. And it’s a large box. You’ll need the golf cart to take it down to the cottage.”

Justin frowned. He couldn’t imagine who would send him a big package. Or what it might be. “Are you sure?”

“Quite,” said Mrs. Minnett. “Take it down there now. Perhaps Brian can explain to you what it is – and what it’s for.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected gift.

Part 11

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006

 

“Brian! C... come and help me carry this b... big box back to the cottage!”

Brian pushed his chair back from the desk as Justin came in the door. “What box is that, Sunshine?” He’d taken to calling Justin that because he stated loudly that Justin’s fucking cheerfulness was enough to make him scream.

“The b... box that UPS brought today,” said Justin, nudging him until he stood. “It’s too big for me to c... carry from the cart.”

“Whatever you say, Sunshine.” Brian followed him out of the cottage and up the path. The box was stowed in the back of the golf cart, more than a little askew. “Jesus! One hard bump and this thing would be in pieces all over the lawn!”

“I was c... careful,” said Justin. “Help me with this end. I’ll t... take the other.”

“I can get it.” Brian easily picked up the box and began carrying it down the steep path.

“Let me help you with that!” Justin hurried after him.

“I said I can get it,” said Brian, firming up his grip on the box. Now if he dropped it, he’d look like a total dick.

“Is this your n... new computer?” Justin asked.

“What gave you that idea?” Brian questioned.

“B... because there’s a picture of a c... computer on the box,” said Justin. 

Brian paused on the pathway. “Who is the fucking thing addressed to?”

Justin frowned. “It’s addressed t... to... to m... m... me. But who would send m... me a computer?”

“Who indeed?” Brian posed. And he continued on to the cottage.

Once inside he set the box on the living room floor and began to open it. Justin stood back, his arms crossed. “B... Brian! Answer me!”

“That small writing desk in my bedroom – bring it out here. And the chair, too. The computer should fit on it perfectly.” Brian shook his head. “The printer should have come with it. I’ll e-mail Murph and find out why they didn’t send them together. And the paper and ink cartridges, too. What’s the fucking point without the printer and paper?”

“B... Brian! What the f... fuck’s going on?” Justin demanded.

“What does it look like?” said Brian, taking the machine out of the box. “Will you get that fucking desk, or do I have to do everything around here myself?”

Justin pushed the writing desk out from the bedroom. “C... can I ask a question?”

“Not yet,” said Brian. “Push that thing over here.” He indicated a spot next to his own desk. “Turn it around. That way you’re not breathing down my fucking neck while I’m trying to work.”

“C... can I ask my question now?”

“No!” Brian lifted up the computer and set it on the smaller desk. “Let me get the thing set up first. Then you can ask a question.”

Justin watched as Brian cursed and hooked up cables and cursed and plugged things in and cursed some more. Finally, he booted up the machine and stood back to admire his work.

“Now you can ask your fucking question.”

Justin gulped. “Wh... what exactly is this for?”

Brian glared back. “It’s a fucking computer! What the hell are you? Amish?”

“I... I know it’s a computer!” said Justin. “B... but what am I supposed to d... do with it?”

Brian looked at Justin as if he were a flaming idiot. “I was going over some graphics Murphy sent me for the FabuTravel account and I remembered the tablet computers they have in the art department at Vangard.” He opened up a picture file and picked up the stylus. “You can draw. You can add color. You can manipulate images. And then, when the fucking printer comes, you can print your stuff out.”

Justin gaped at the machine, open-mouthed. “B... b... but...” 

“Just try the fucking thing!” Brian pushed him into the chair and shoved the stylus into his right hand. “Go ahead!”

Justin’s hand was trembling, but he tentatively touched the stylus to the screen and a splotch of color bloomed on the picture. He moved his right hand slowly, the left steadying it, drawing a line. Then another one. And another.

“I c... can do it!” Justin whispered.

“No shit,” said Brian. 

Justin turned and looked at the other man. “Why?” he asked.

“Why?” said Brian. “Because I hate to see talent wasted. And you were wasting yours. I don’t know a lot about art, per se, but I know when something is good. If you could do it before, you can do it again. Maybe it won’t be exactly the same, but it’ll be something. And when your hand improves, you can do more drawing on paper or however you prefer to work. But in the meanwhile this is another way to be creative. Most of the stuff they do at Vangard uses the computer in some way. And that machine has other programs on it, too, including an animation program. They’ll also be sending a digital camera. You can take pictures and use Photoshop to fool around with them.”

Justin felt a thickness in the back of his throat. “How do you know I was w... wasting my talent? How did you know I had any to begin with?”

Brian walked to the open front door and looked out at Lake Erie. It was a fine September day and the water was as smooth as glass. “Mrs. Minnett showed me your portfolio. I saw what you could do – before. But even if you can’t draw like that now, it doesn’t mean you won’t be able to someday. This is a stop gap until that day.”

Justin gripped the stylus in his right hand. He was able to pick things up and do basic tasks with it, but he’d despaired of ever again using it for his art. But already it felt stronger. Empowered. The itch to create images was almost overwhelming.

Justin set the stylus down.

He walked to Brian, standing in the doorway.

“Thank you,” he said. “That’s an ex... expensive c... computer. But I’ll repay you. I will. You can’t know how m... much this means to me.”

Brian shook his head. “It’s nothing. The money is meaningless. Pay me back with your first art show. I’ll be expecting a good review – nothing less than a rave. Or I’ll have your balls.”

Justin nodded. “I’ll do my b... best.”

“That’s what you always have to do,” said Brian, still staring at the lake. And across the lake, towards Canada. “Your best. And you will. I know it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storms coming in.

Part 12

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006

 

With October came storms, blowing over the lake from Canada and buffeting the cottage fiercely. But the builders of the cottage, back at the turn of the 19th Century into the 20th, knew the climate and they knew the lake and the stone walls held tight and warm even when the rain lashed against the northern windows.

“It’s s... started again,” said Justin, coming in from a brief walk on the beach. He brushed the raindrops from his blond hair.

“Do tell,” said Brian, his eyes glued to his computer screen.

“I got some photos of the sunset b... behind the storm clouds,” said Justin. “Maybe I’ll do a series of c... collages of the shoreline in different weather: sunny summer day, autumn storm, first winter snow, then spring. I like doing pieces with a th... theme. I can hardly wait to download these pics onto my computer.”

“Knock yourself out.” Brian clicked on a link, and then another. “Fuck! How far away is Buffalo?”

Justin thought about it. “I went to the big mall there with Mrs. Minnett last Ch... Christmas. It’s an hour, maybe. Where in Buffalo?”

“Never mind,” said Brian, clicking to a different site. “That’s too fucking far, especially in this weather.”

“Where did you want to go?”

“I said never mind.”

Justin shrugged and went into the kitchen to get dinner. He made salads for both of them and some pasta for him and a grilled lamb chop for Brian. Brian was a picky eater, seemingly living on bags of salad, booze, and occasional pigouts on greasy burgers and french fries. Justin was trying to get him to enjoy eating more, but it was an uphill struggle.

After they ate, Brian got back on the computer while Justin cleaned up. The rain had paused for a while and Justin had the back door open, letting in a cool, wet breeze.

“I’m going out,” Brian said, poking his head in the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“H... hold it!” Justin cried, going out to the living room. “Wh... where are you going in this weather? You’ll get soaked w... walking up to the garage!”

“I’m taking the old bumbershoot.” Brian shook out the umbrella and opened it in the doorway. “See ya.”

“W... wait!” Justin called, but Brian disappeared into the dark.

Justin finished putting away the dishes and then sat at his own computer and uploaded the photos from his digital camera. He loved the new computer and what he could do with it. For the first time he actually had hope that one day he could resume his art studies. It might be years before he was ready, but he didn’t mind waiting. It was a goal. Something to work for. 

And Brian had made it possible. He owed him all that.

Which was why Brian’s recent behavior troubled him.

They’d been getting along well, Justin thought. Brian had his Vangard accounts to keep him occupied, while Justin worked in his garden, kept the cottage in order, and made his daily trip up to the house to get the mail and shoot the breeze with the Major. And now work on his art. Take photos. Practice using the stylus. Experiment with the laser printer. He was getting better at it every day, his hand becoming steadier, his eyes readjusting to seeing the world like an artist. The words that sometimes came haltingly were less of a problem when he focused instead on the visual.

Then Brian became restless. Or more restless than usual. Justin heard him wandering around the cottage very late at night, long after he’d supposedly gone to bed. He was on the computer mostly, but sometimes he just stood at the door and stared out, nursing a cigarette. And he seemed jumpy around Justin. Once Justin had reached for some printer paper and brushed against Brian’s arm – and Brian had literally flinched.

“Sorry,” Justin said.

“No problem,” said Brian. But he got up and left the room as if he’d been scalded.

That was weird. Very weird.

Justin hated to be a snoop, but he couldn’t help himself. Brian had put his Mac to sleep and Justin knew that a simple touch and a click would show him what sites Brian had been surfing.

Porn sites. That wasn’t really a surprise. But also a site called Erie Man2Man. And another called Buffalo Connection. 

Hook-up sites.

Justin put the Brian’s computer back to sleep, sorry he’d been so curious.

Brian had gone out into the pouring rain to look for someone to have sex with.

“It shouldn’t bother me,” thought Justin. “He’s a guy who likes sex. There’s nothing wrong with that. Being so far away from Pittsburgh and all those available men must be a pain in the ass. I think about sex all the time, so why shouldn’t Brian? And he’s actually had sex, so he knows what he’s missing – unlike me, whose only sex partner is my fucking gimpy hand!”

It was starting to get chilly in the cottage. Justin thought about lighting the fire – Mr. Quigley had brought down plenty of firewood and the inside woodbox was filled to the brim – but he wanted to wait until Brian was there to start the hearth for the first time this season. So he wrapped himself in a blanket and stretched out on the sofa with a mystery novel he’d borrowed from Mrs. Minnett.

And promptly fell into a warm and deep sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian returns.

Part 13

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006

 

Slam!

Justin woke with a start as the front door banged open and the storm – and a stormy Brian – blew into the room.

“Goddamnittohellmotherfuckingsonofabitch!”

“Brian!” Justin leapt off the sofa. “Wh... what happened? You’re drenched!”

“No kidding!” Brian was dripping water all over the hardwood floor. He was also holding a tattered umbrella limply in his hand. “Jesus Christ! Piss on this fucking thing!” He threw the umbrella across the room and then began pulling off his soaking clothes.

“What happened to your umbrella?” asked Justin, his eyes wide.

“The wind got it on the walk back from the garage!” Brian wiped his face with his sopping shirt. “A perfect end to a perfect fucking evening!”

Justin ran to Brian’s bathroom and took a large towel out of the linen cupboard. Brian walked into the bedroom as Justin came out and snatched the towel away.

“Let m... me help you,” said Justin.

“I can dry myself, Sunshine,” Brian sniffed. He dabbed at his chest and arms, but he was still soaking the carpet.

“You’re doing a lousy job,” Justin returned. He picked up Brian’s discarded shirt. “This is a mess. It’s all m... muddy. And so are your jeans.”

“I fell coming down the fucking path in the dark.” Brian peeled off his jeans and kicked them aside. “I think I ruined my fucking Prada boots!”

“Oh.” Justin was suddenly very aware that Brian was standing in front of him, wet and completely naked. “C... can I get your robe?”

Brian started to say something rude, but then he stopped. “Yes. Please. It’s hanging on the hook in the bathroom.”

“I know. I m... mean, I just saw it there.”

Justin got the robe and handed it to Brian, then he began collecting the rest of the wet clothing from the floor.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Brian. “You’re not my maid.”

“I don’t m... mind. They’ll need to be washed. Or dry cleaned. I’ll ask Mrs. Minnett about her c... cleaner.”

Brian grabbed Justin’s arm. “I said you don’t have to do that. You aren’t the fucking maid! It’s my own goddamn fault if my clothes are fucked up.”

Justin stared into Brian’s dark green eyes. Even with his robe in, he was still almost naked, and although he was wet with the rain, his body radiated heat. “I... I’ll just put them in the h... hamper.”

Justin went into the bathroom and put the jeans into the laundry basket. He tried to rinse the shirt out in the sink, but it was a hopeless cause.

“You w... want some hot tea?” Justin asked when he came out. 

Brian was sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his damp hair. “No. I’m fine.”

“It’ll heat you up. You don’t w... want to catch pneumonia.”

Brian barked a laugh. “Now you sound like my mother! No – erase that. My mother wouldn’t give a shit if I caught pneumonia. She’d probably say it was God’s punishment for going out in a hurricane, looking for dick!”

Justin drew a deep breath. “Is th... that what you were d... doing? Looking for d... dick?”

“Why else would I go out in this fucked up weather?” Brian shook his head. “That’s how horny I am. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

Justin thought about the hook-up sites on Brian’s computer. “Where did you g... go? A b... bar?”

“No,” Brian said wearily. “I avoid bars. Even the darkest, most depressing dives are still full of judgmental assholes. I went to a rest area off Interstate 90. The guy said he’d meet me there. It was pouring and the men’s room was little more than an outhouse – and the roof was leaking! The guy was some fucking closet case. He was jumpy as hell. And then... when he really looked at me... he hiked! Fucking jerk! There’s nothing wrong with my dick! Nothing at all! It’s as good as it ever was. But no one wants to know that. No one wants to...” Brian covered his face with his hands. “I might as well cut off my remaining ball and have done with the whole thing! Then I won’t care anymore.”

Justin sat on the bed next to Brian. “R... remaining ball?”

“I only have one,” Brian explained. “The other is plastic.”

Justin was shocked. “P... plastic?” 

Brian closed his eyes. “I had cancer two years ago and they removed it. I should have followed my instincts back them – a one-way ticket to Ibiza, party my ass off, and then end it all. I would have gone out in a fucking blaze of glory! Instead...” He opened his eyes and saw Justin gazing at him. “Instead of becoming a fucking shadow of what I was. Going out with a whimper, instead of a bang.”

“I didn’t know,” Justin said. “I mean, about the cancer. Mrs. Minnett didn’t tell me.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know. Almost no one knows. The only people I told were Michael, Theodore, a guy I worked with at Vangard, and Gardner, who needed to know why I was taking time off when I was sick from the radiation. Lindsay still doesn’t know, so she couldn’t have told Mrs. Minnett.”

Justin blinked. “Why d...didn’t you tell her? Isn’t she your son’s mother?”

Brian nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t want her hovering over me like some mother hen, trying to take care of me. Michael knowing was bad enough. And now only three people know – Michael, Gardner... and you.”

“What about the guy at work?”

“He’s dead,” Brian said flatly. “So he won’t be saying anything to anyone.”

“Oh.” Justin looked away. A guy named Theodore. He knew some of Brian’s friends had died in the bombing, but he didn’t know their names. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? It isn’t your fucking problem!” Brian stood up and began pacing back and forth. “I’m such a fucking idiot! This was the worst idea ever! I never should have come here! At least if I were in the Pitts I could order up a hustler. Hustlers are the best, you know? They’ll even let a freak like me fuck them – if they get paid enough!”

Justin swallowed. “I’ll d... do it,” he said in a small voice. “And you don’t have to pay me.”

Brian halted in his tracks. “You’ll do what?”

“You can f... fuck me. I’ve n... never done it before, b... but I can learn. I w... want to. I’m almost 24 years old and I’m sick of being a... a... a virgin.”

Justin began to pull his tee shirt over his head.

“No,” said Brian. “Stop that!”

Justin stopped. “D... don’t you want to f... fuck me? Is it because I’m a... a gimp? With my f... fucked up hand and b... bad leg? And m... m... my mashed brain? Are you afraid I’ll have a seizure? Or am I th... that disgusting? Would it be beneath you to fuck a b... babbling idiot?”

“No,” Brian whispered. “I don’t think you’re disgusting at all. And I was an asshole to call you that. I say things without thinking. Without really knowing what I’m talking about. I’ve apologized for it – and I almost never apologize. But when I’m wrong, I say so. I was wrong.”

“Then why not?” Justin demanded. He clenched his right hand tightly and his cock stirred inside his cargo pants. “If you f... fuck me, then you won’t have to g... go out in the rain to find someone. I’m r... right here!”

“That’s the problem!” Brian shouted in despair. “You’re right here! I see you every day – and I want to fuck you! Want to grab you and toss you on the bed and fuck your ass until you scream! But I won’t. I can’t.”

“Wh... why not?” Justin pleaded.

“Because you deserve better than me, that’s why!” said Brian. “I don’t fuck people I care about. I don’t fuck anyone I give a damn for. Because I’m bad news – always have been and always will be. Before... the incident I was the king of Liberty Avenue! I could get any guy I wanted. And I wanted plenty of them. But not as people. They were fucks. Tricks. Tight asses and hot mouths. That’s the way I liked it and that’s the way I kept it. And now...” Brian shuddered. “Now I can’t even get a fat fuck in a pick-up truck to suck me off. And I don’t blame the guy – I wouldn’t want to fuck me either. So how can I allow you to be some kind of sacrificial lamb? The ultimate pity fuck! Because you feel sorry for me? No way!”

“But I w... want to!” Justin insisted. “And it’s not out of p... pity! I swear!”

Brian took Justin’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Go back to your room and go to sleep. I’ll be fine. And I’m going to give you some advice that no one who knows me will ever believe I said. Wait, kid. Wait until you find someone you really love. Someone who’ll give you a memory you’ll cherish for the rest of your fucking life. Don’t settle for anything less. Because that’s what you deserve – to make love with someone you love. Now – go to bed. And forget we ever had this conversation.”

He pushed Justin out the door and shut it. Then he went into the bathroom and washed his face. The covered up mirror stared back at him, mockingly.

The rain was still pounding hard against the cottage. Brian looked out the window, cursing himself. You stupid fuck! Now you’ll really have to leave here. Or you’ll have to send Justin away. Because there’s no way you can stay in this cottage with him another day. No fucking way!

Brian turned out the lights and got into bed. For once he wasn’t drunk. He cupped his balls in his right hand, feeling the plastic one. It felt hard and false, like his heart.

The bedroom door creaked open and a figure crept across the room. Sat on the bed. Pulled back the covers.

“What are you doing? I said to go to bed,” said Brian.

“I... I am,” said Justin, getting in beside him.

“Didn’t you hear what I told you?” Brian huffed. “About only fucking someone you were in love with?”

“Yes,” said Justin. He ran his hand down Brian’s long body and found his erection, grasping it firmly. “And th... that’s exactly what I’m doing.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pillow talk.

Part 14

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006

 

“Wow,” sighed Justin, sinking back onto the pillow.

“‘Wow’?” Brian questioned. “Just ‘wow’? ‘Wow’ is the fucking best you can do?”

Justin grinned. “How about ‘Wow! B...Bam! Pow! B... Bang!’?”

“Forget it,” said Brian, lighting a joint. “Now you sound like Michael!”

Justin cocked his head. “Wh... why do I sound like Michael?”

“Because he’s a comic book geek.” Brian took a long, satisfied toke on the joint. It felt good to relax. Good to be in bed with someone who wasn’t judging him. “He even owns a comic book store.”

“You mentioned that before. I d... don’t know much about c... comic books. I’ve never read one.” 

“Michael’s read thousands! He even got me to go to a couple of Comic Cons with him,” Brian said. “Those are real nerd-fests!”

Brian almost never talked about his life back in Pittsburgh, so Justin’s interest was immediately piqued. “I can’t p... picture you and all those comic books! Michael must be a really good f... friend for you to g... go with him. How long have you kn... known him?”

“Since we were around 13, 14. I was the new kid in school and Mikey latched onto me. He was obsessed with comic books even then.” Brian smiled. “He always went for the big guys who looked like superheroes. That was his type. You should have seen his partner, Ben. That guy was built like Captain Astro!”

Justin frowned. “Who’s C... Captain Astro?”

“Who is Captain Astro!” Brian raised an eyebrow. “You truly never read comic books when you were a kid?”

Justin shook his head. “My parents thought they were t... trashy.”

“Captain Astro was Michael’s favorite superhero. He was like a bargain basement Captain America or Superman, but Mikey loved him. You should have seen how depressed he got when the writers killed him off. Like he’d lost his best friend.”

Justin leaned against Brian. “I thought you were his b... best friend?”

Brian swallowed hard. “I am.... Or I was. Things are different now. It’s... complicated.”

“Was he your first lover?” Justin asked.

Brian feigned shock. “What? Me and Mikey? No, never! There was a time when we might have been, but... I could never have done it. He was too much like a brother. And it would have ruined our friendship.”

“But you d... did love him,” Justin stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Brian admitted. “As much as I could love anyone. Which is another reason we never had sex.”

“Because you only have s... sex with people you don’t give a damn about.” Justin stared into Brian’s eyes, challenging him. “Like me.”

Brian looked away. “This is... different.”

“How?”

Brian took another toke on the joint. “I don’t know, but it is. Here. Have some of this.” He offered him the joint. “It’ll take your mind off all these stupid questions.”

Justin hesitated. He’d smoked dope before, but not since the bashing. “I g... guess a little wouldn’t hurt me.” He took a tentative puff and then handed it back. “That’s p...plenty. I get d... dizzy enough without it.” He smiled slyly. “You made me dizzy!”

Brian laughed. “That’s because all the blood ran to your dick while I was fucking you!” He blew out a smoke ring and watched it float upward. “It was great, kid. I mean it.”

“I didn’t know I could g... get into those positions!” Justin felt himself blushing. “I g... guess I’m more flexible than I thought. I d... did okay for my first time, didn’t I?”

“You went for it,” Brian asserted. “You didn’t hesitate for a second. Although I thought you were going to faint when I started rimming you.”

“I th... thought I was going to, too!” said Justin. “But I’m g... glad I didn’t!”

“I hope you learned something,” Brian returned. “Because I’ll expect a little reciprocation next time.”

“Then th... there will be a next time?” Justin said hopefully.

Brian bit his lip. But he couldn’t deny that he felt happier than he had in ages. “Yes, there will be a next time. What am I going to do? Kick you out?”

“Out of bed or out of the c... cottage?” Justin ran his left hand down Brian’s chest.

“Both.” Justin kept touching him. Stroking his chest. Running his fingers over his sensitive nipples. “Stop that. I’m getting hard again.”

“G... good,” said Justin, wiggling down to take Brian’s cock in his mouth.

“Shit!” breathed Brian. “That’s great! Yeah... Oh, yeah... Fuck! Wow!”

“Th... thanks,” said Justin, pleased with himself.

“My, my, but the boy is a fast learner,” said Brian, curling his arm around him.

“That’s b... because I have an amazing teacher,” Justin replied.

“Naturally.”

They were both quiet for a long time. The rain continued its tattoo against the windows and the roof, but they were warm. And safe.

“So,” said Brian, finally. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

“You know.”

Justin turned towards Brian. “You m... mean the scars? Not really. I have sc... scars, too. Scars where Ch... Chris Hobbs bashed my skull in. And scars where the d... doctors drilled into my head to release the blood. My hair c... covers them now, but they’re there. I can feel them every day. And then there are the sc... scars that aren’t so obvious. My g... gimp hand. My bad leg. The way I c... can’t always get the w... words out when I want them. The fact that I c... can’t remember huge chunks of my life. Those are w... worse scars than the ones on my skin.”

“Scars are fucked up,” said Brian. “You understand. Maybe that’s why I... I sort of trust you.”

“You can tr... trust me, Brian,” he replied. “I do understand. I think that’s why Mrs. M... Minnett thought I should live here with you. I was a wr... wreck when I first came to Las Encantadas. I n... never thought I’d be able to deal with what had happened to me. I’m n... not cured. I’ll n... never be cured. But I can find a way to live. I kn... know that now.”

“I wish I knew it.” Brian stared at the joint in his hand as it smoldered out.

“You got me that c... computer. You knew what I needed to make me feel like my... myself again.”

“But a computer isn’t going help me, kid,” said Brian. “I can still do my advertising work, but that’s not going to fill every moment of my fucking life. I took for granted that I’d always be what I was – a hot fuck who everyone would want. That I’d always be... be young and beautiful. I knew that was stupid, but I believed it somehow. Or that I’d die before I passed my natural gay expiration date.”

“What’s that?” Justin asked.

“The day that a guy loses his sex appeal,” Brian explained. “The day you become a troll. The creep everyone avoids, except as a pity fuck.”

“Only th... those who don’t kn... know you,” said Justin. “Only those who don’t lo... lo... love you. Because if someone loves you, th... they don’t give a shit about your expiration date – which I think is the d... dumbest thing I ever heard of! Because I th... think you’re beautiful! I love your body! I love your sc... scars! And I love you! You have to b... believe me. So l... let me prove it!”

“Prove it?” Brian frowned.

“Like this.” Justin kissed an angry red mark on Brian’s right shoulder and another on his upper arm. “These aren’t your f... fault. They m... mean you survived! That you’re alive! And I’m happy you’re alive!” Justin put his face up against Brian’s. “I’m n... not afraid of these. I’m not disgusted b... by them.” Justin gently kissed a jagged red scar on his right cheek, then one over his eye that slashed through his eyebrow. “They aren’t so b... bad. They’re only on the surface. You can st... still see. Hear. Feel. And make love. What more do w... we need?”

“I need to forget,” said Brian, his voice haunted. “And I can’t forget! I can never fucking forget!”

“Then t... tell me,” said Justin. “Share it with me. I c... can’t remember what happened to me, so it’ll always be a bl... black hole. A blank place in my life. G... give me some of your p... pain, Brian. Give it to me, and then you won’t have so m... much to carry.”

Brian closed his eyes and for moment Justin thought he’d gone to sleep. But then he coughed softly, as if something was caught in his throat.

“It was March of 2005,” he said. “And they were having a fund raiser at a gay dance club on Liberty Avenue called Babylon...”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tells Justin about the bombing of Babylon.

Part 15

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006

 

“The fucking Gay and Lesbian Center were having a fund raiser for Stop Prop 14. Michael’s partner Ben and Lindsay’s partner Mel were heavily involved in planning the thing,” Brian began.

“You don’t like the G... Gay and Lesbian Center?” Justin asked. “I th... thought they helped gay people and did good things for their rights.”

“Helping. Doing good!” Brian sniffed. “That’s the problem. They’re a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites who like to parade their ‘good works’ up and down Liberty Avenue and then take bows for it. Oh, and condemn anyone who doesn’t agree with their peachy-keeny, let’s-all-be-like-happy-heteros view of the world!”

“Like you?” Justin pressed.

“Like me,” Brian conceded. “Philip and Tannis and their minions fucking hate me. And the feeling is mutual. I say that if you want to make a change, then do it behind the scenes. Do it stealth. Like a guerilla fighter in the war on queers.”

“Like a s... superhero,” said Justin. “Fighting c... crime from the shadows. Never expecting any thanks or f... fame. A true gay avenger.”

“Now you really sound like Mikey!” Brian returned. “But that’s not the GLC way. Then they wouldn’t get their pictures on the front page of ‘Pittsburgh OUT’! Anyway, all the places they tried to hold the fund raiser turned them down – even the places owned or run by fags! Too afraid to go against the Pro-Prop 14 bigots. So, mainly as a favor to Michael, I pulled a few strings.”

“What k... kind of strings?”

“I got them Babylon,” said Brian. “Stockwell firing me from his campaign turned out to be a blessing in disguise. He lost the mayor’s race big time – and he told Gardner that getting rid of me sunk his chances. The guy who replaced me didn’t have a fucking clue! And I was glad Stockwell lost – he was a jerk and a homophobe! I ended up getting even more clients, especially ones who wanted to appeal to gay consumers. It was all gravy. I used the extra money I was making to invest in a small pleasure of mine – Babylon. The owners were also clueless assholes, but with an influx of my money, the club was remodeled and revitalized. Of course, I was a silent partner, as always. But I enjoyed my perks there. And one of them was getting the club to host the Anti-Prop 14 fund raiser – at no charge, so all the money would go to the initiative.”

Brian paused. Although the bedroom was cool, he was sweating.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked, squeezing his arm protectively. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Perfecto mundo, as always. Anyway, I’d been planning to go to Sydney for Mardi Gras, but Mikey convinced me to stay an extra day so I could go to the fund raiser. I’d already donated a pot of money under my favorite pseudonym, Concerned Citizens for the Truth, but I couldn’t turn him down. He’d worked so hard to get it done right – they all had. So even though Melanie and the GLC were involved, I stayed.” Brian swallowed. “I fucking stayed.”

“Brian,” said Justin. Seeing the pain on Brian’s face was almost more than he could stand. “You don’t have to... to s... say any more. I understand.”

“No,” said Brian. “I have to. I fucking... have to.” He sat up and stared straight ahead, as if picturing something. “Everything went perfectly. The crowd was large and enthusiastic, the entertainment decent, and the money was rolling in. The fund raiser was a massive success and Michael and Ben were ecstatic. As usual, Lindsay and Mel were missing because Lindsay was late getting ready and then they had a big fucking fight. And Debbie was still at the diner, taking over someone’s late shift. Michael kept going outside to call her to tell her to get her ass over to Babylon before everything was all over. That’s where he was, outside in the alley on the cell, when it happened.”

“Brian... d... don’t. Really!” 

“I’m okay,” he said, shaking off Justin’s hand. “I was standing at the bar, eyeing the bartender. He was new, an extra hire for the night. Theodore was standing next to me, also eyeing him. We were both facing away from the stage – the entertainment wasn’t what I was there for. If I was missing the first day of Australian Mardi Gras, I wanted something to make it worth my while and this guy was definitely worth it. Our friend Emmett was standing behind us, next to Ben. They were actually watching the show. Cyndi Lauper or whatever the fuck. Emmett was clapping like a maniac. And Michael was outside, arguing with fucking Deb. That’s... that’s what saved him – a stupid argument with his mother. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Justin whispered.

“I felt the impact before anything else. The explosion was so loud I went deaf at first, so I didn’t really hear it. I felt the heat and something hit me from behind. Some debris. Something hot. Burning. Hit my back and right shoulder. And at the same time the whole front of the bar – an entire wall of mirrors and all the bottles – came crashing down, shattering and flying at me like a wall of lethal light. And at Ted, too. And the bartender. And everyone else who was standing there. I remember putting my hands up to shield my eyes and feeling the glass slicing into my skin.” Brian considered the backs of his hands. They were crisscrossed with tiny red scars, like roads on a map. “It was like it was all happening to someone else. That it wasn’t real. That moment seemed to go on for hours, but it was only seconds. Seconds – and then everything changed. Everything.”

Justin held his breath. “But you’re a... alive, Brian! That’s wh... what matters!”

“Is it?” said Brian. “I must have passed out for a few minutes. And when I woke up there was smoke everywhere. Yelling. Screaming. Cries for help. Shit crashing down from the ceiling. Ted – Theodore – was lying next to me, covered in blood, his eyes open. Staring. A piece of the mirror had sliced right into his neck. He’d bled to death in those few minutes. Emmett was a few feet away. He’d been burned over 80% of his body. He died the next day. The bartender – I never did get his name – he was dead, too. And Dusty, a friend of Lindz and Mel’s. And... so many others. I closed my eyes and someone carried me out. I remember lying on a stretcher, half-conscious, with Michael standing over me. His face – I’ll never forget his face. He kept saying, “Brian! Brian!” over and over again. And then they brought Ben out – and he started really crying. Saying, “No! No!” I never even saw Ben – he went immediately into an ambulance. Apparently they’d decided I was likely to live, so I could wait. Ben actually lived for almost a week. He might have made it, too, except he was HIV positive and his immune system was so weakened it went onto meltdown. I was still in the hospital through all the funerals. I was in the hospital for a while, then in a rehab center. Really it was a psychiatric center. Same fucking difference. A warehouse for damaged goods.”

“I know,” Justin said quietly. “I was in one for a l... long time, too.”

“I’m sorry,” said Brian. “I didn’t mean you. I meant me. Michael didn’t come to see me for almost a month. I don’t blame him. He was grieving. And he was angry. Of all the people who deserved to live, but didn’t – I was the fucker who did live. I lived and his partner died. I don’t think he can ever forgive me for that.”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t b... believe he thinks that! Did he say it?”

“No, but I know that’s what he believes. Because that’s what I believe. I should have died, but I didn’t. That’s what I have to face every single day.”

Justin put his arms around Brian and buried his face in Brian’s chest. “I’m g... glad you’re alive! I thank God you’re alive!”

“God had nothing to do with it,” said Brian. “And if he did, it was his little joke.”

“Michael doesn’t blame you, Brian,” said Justin. “He blames himself. He wasn’t there when the bomb went off. That’s what he regrets. Not that you lived. Or else he wouldn’t still care so much about you. And he does! You know he does.”

“I don’t know anything,” said Brian. 

He slowly got out of bed. Justin could clearly see the scars on his back from the burns. But already they seemed faded. No longer angry and accusing, but just scars. Just marks on skin, with no other meaning.

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Justin. “Shit h... happens. There’s only one person to b... blame and that’s the bastard who planted the bomb! Who lived and who died had nothing to do with anyone else! It was ch... chance, Brian!”

“I got them the club, otherwise there wouldn’t have been a fund raiser. We were all standing there, right next to where the bomb was planted, because I wanted to stand there! Because I was cruising that fucking bartender!”

Justin got up and walked over to Brian, grabbing him. Shaking him. “The f... fucking world doesn’t revolve around you, Br... Brian Kinney! You weren’t the t... target! It w... would have happened even if you hadn’t been there! If you’d been on an... an... airplane to Aus... Australia, it still would have gone off!”

Brian looked away. “I know that. My brain knows that. But it still doesn’t help. It doesn’t erase those minutes. My heart doesn’t believe it. My gut doesn’t believe it. So I have to live with it. Every day. Every night. Alone.”

“No,” said Justin, his voice full of determination. “N... not alone. N... never alone. Because I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere!”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin spills the beans.

Part 16

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006

 

“Justin, I didn’t expect you again this afternoon,” said the Major from his desk. Justin had been into the winery office earlier in the day to pick up the mail.

He bent down to pet Harvey. “I wanted to pr... print out this graphic I made,” he said, slipping the diskette into the machine. “I’ve been w... working on it especially and I want to see how it turned out.”

“Don’t you have a printer in the cottage?” the Major asked.

“Y... yes, but this is a surprise for Brian.” Justin smiled to himself as he brought the picture up on the screen. “I don’t w... want him to see it until it’s finished.”

The Major frowned as he stared into space. “What is it of?”

“I took a picture of Br... Brian by the window of the cottage and then I sort of b... b...borrowed a photo of his son G... Gus from his computer and added it. It’s like he’s thinking about G... Gus. I used Ph... Photoshop. I’m getting pretty g... good with that program.”

“Sounds interesting,” said the Major. “I wish I could see it.”

“I th... think Brian will like it. He really m... misses his son.” Justin made a few adjustments and then put a piece of heavy-stock paper into the laser printer. “He was t... telling me last night about how much Gus liked some p... pictures I took of the rabbits up on the b... bluff. I e-mailed them to Lindsay – that’s Gus’ mother – and added some f... funny captions a six-year-old would enjoy. G... Gus thought they were a riot.”

“Listen, Justin – I know this is none of my business, but...” The Major hesitated. “But, you and Brian... is there something going on between you?”

Justin glanced at the Major, surprised by the question. They’d never talked about anything like relationships before. Or sex. The Major knew he was gay, but they’d never discussed that, either. Of course, there’d been no reason to discuss it before. That is, before Brian.

“Are w... we lovers, do you mean?” Justin replied. “Yes. And I couldn’t be happier.”

The Major cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Brian is quite a bit older than you. Are you certain that... that you know him well enough to...” He stopped, disconcerted.

“To be having s... sex with him?” Justin offered. “I love him. That’s all that m... matters.”

“Does Mrs. Minnett know about this?”

Justin shrugged. “Whether she does or doesn’t, it’s n... none of her business.”

“Your mother entrusted her with your care, Justin,” the Major said sharply. “I don’t know if she would approve of this... homosexual entanglement.”

“I’m not a child!” Justin retorted. “I’m a g... grown man and I can make my own decisions! And it’s not an ‘entanglement’ – it’s a real r... relationship. We love each other! I never thought you, of all people, would be homophobic, M... Major!”

“I’m not homophobic!” the Major replied as if stung. “I’m only concerned for your well-being! You’re still young. And you’re... you’re...”

“B... brain-damaged, you mean?” Justin put another sheet of paper into the printer to print out another copy.

“No!” said the Major. “Inexperienced. Naive, perhaps.”

“I’m n... not naive!” Justin snapped. “B... besides, I already told you it’s none of your f... fucking business!”

“What on earth is going on in here?” Mrs. Minnett came into the room, frowning.

“Just a discussion, Abigail,” said the Major.

“Quite a loud discussion,” said Mrs. Minnett. “I could hear you two from outside.”

Justin spread out one of the prints on the table. “The M... Major doesn’t think I should be having sex with Br... Brian. And I told him it was none of his f... fucking business!”

“Well...” Mrs. Minnett took a deep breath. “I imagine it isn’t, my dear. But there’s no need to use profanity. The two of you have been good friends for a long time. I’m sure you can agree to disagree.”

Justin nodded. “I a... a... apologize for my language, but I’m not s... sorry for what Brian and I are doing. It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me! And, although Br... Brian would never admit it, I think it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, too. He’s like a different person these days. He’s... he’s h... happy.”

“That’s wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Minnett soothed. “Is this one of the pieces you’ve been working on? May I see it?”

“Sure.” Justin hadn’t shown any of the graphics he’d done on the new computer – except the doodles he’d sent to Gus – to anyone but Brian. “I don’t know if they’re any g... good. But since I n... never thought I’d make art again, they’re a beginning.”

“I like this,” said Mrs. Minnett. “And I’m not merely being kind. I like the way you’ve integrated the photos with other elements.”

“I tried to do a c... collage effect in some of the other pieces. This one is m... more straightforward.”

“May I see some of the others? If you’d be willing to share them.”

Justin bit his lip. “I d... don’t know. They’re mainly f... for us. For m... me and Brian.”

“Please?” Mrs. Minnett nudged.

Justin opened up another file on the diskette and printed it out. It was a nude of Brian, shadowed with color and light. Justin hadn’t printed it before and was surprised at how well it looked.

“This is good,” said Mrs. Minnett. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you could do this with a computer! Of course, I’m technically inept. E-mail is almost beyond my ability!”

“It was h... hard at first. My hand is still shaky on the mouse and it gets tired quickly. But Br... Brian said I should keep t... trying and be patient. I have some ph... photos of the lake and objects around the cottage, but m... most of my work is of Br... Brian. He’s the most b... beautiful subject I can think of.”

Mrs. Minnett gazed at the young man and then at the graphics of Brian he’d created. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Justin sincerely. “More than anything else in my life. I thought I’d never f... feel this way. That H... Hobbs and his pals had taken that away from me. But they didn’t. For the f... first time since I was bashed, I feel like a real p... person. Like a normal person.”

“You are normal!” the Major interjected.

“I’m trying,” said Justin. “I’m sorry I g... got upset with you, but I want you to understand about us. I want you to accept us. And b... be happy for us!”

“We are,” said Mrs. Minnett. “Aren’t we, Major?”

“I suppose so,” he grumbled. “Yes, I’m happy for you, Justin. It’s difficult for me to understand it, but if it’s right for you, that’s all that matters.”

“Thanks,” said Justin. He began rolling up the prints. “I want to have the one of Br... Brian and Gus f... framed as a gift. He’s already g... given me my computer, so I want to give him a gift in return. I know he’ll love this.”

“I’m sure he will,” said Mrs. Minnett. “Justin, have you considered submitting a few pieces to the Gay and Lesbian Center Art Exhibit? Lindsay sent me a flyer about it. I think a few of your older drawings, along with your new work, would be very well received.”

Justin was taken aback. “M... my pieces? In an art show? Except for a display at school I’ve n... never been in one before. Do you think they’re g... good enough?”

“Yes, they are certainly good enough,” Mrs. Minnett maintained. “I’ll call Tannis and find out some more information. The show is right after Thanksgiving, so that gives you about a month to prepare for it. I think the GLC will welcome your work. May I keep these to look at? And the Center will need samples of your work, too.”

“Th... that would be amazing! I can g... get you anything you need!” said Justin with excitement. “My mother has m... more of my old stuff at home. And I have lots of new pieces on my computer!” Justin popped out his diskette and buttoned up his sweater to go outside. “W... wait until I tell Brian about this! He’ll be so proud! S... see you, Mrs. Minnett, Major!” 

Mrs. Minnett watched Justin bolt out the door and then, through the window, move across the lawn towards the path to the cottage. He was almost running, his limp barely noticeable.

“You should have realized this would happen, Abigail,” said Major, the disapproval heavy in his voice. “That man Kinney has a dreadful reputation and yet you served innocent Justin up to him like a tasty dessert!”

“It’s what the boy needed, John,” she replied. “It was time that he move forward with his life – and falling in love is part of that.”

“That Brian Kinney will break his heart!” the Major warned. 

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Minnett mused. “But I think it much more likely that Mr. Kinney will be the one whose heart is broken in this affair. But that’s the chance we all must take in love, isn’t it, my dear?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian makes a phone call to Toronto.

Part 17

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006

 

“Brian, when are you coming up here?” Lindsay inquired. “Gus is asking for you!”

“I can’t,” Brian said flatly. He pulled the collar of his jacket up against the sharp wind. October was almost over and it was starting to get cold. He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do when winter really came – he’d never get a call out of the black hole of the cottage, but he was damned if he was going to sit on the bluff in the middle of a snow storm in order to make a fucking phone call!

“Why don’t we come down there for a weekend?” said Lindsay. “Mrs. Minnett says the cottage has four bedrooms. It doesn’t matter if they’re small. Gus and I can stay for a couple of days. I know he’d love to meet Justin, too. Those pictures he sent of the rabbits are adorable.”

“Yeah, Justin’s a talented kid,” said Brian, juggling the cell. He was also trying to light a cigarette, but the wind kept blowing out the fucking Zippo!

“Are you two getting along?” asked Lindsay. “You know how you are with strangers.”

“We’re getting along just peachy.”

“When I heard you had a roommate there, I couldn’t imagine what Mrs. Minnett was thinking! But then when you said he was doing chores around the cottage, I understood – a little. This is therapy for him, right? I remember when he was bashed. What a horrible thing! And the trial of those boys who did it! Poor Justin! Such a tragedy!”

“Yeah, a tragedy.”

“You do remember when that happened, don’t you, Brian? Everyone was talking about it.”

“Sure, I remember. The guy is living here, isn’t he? How the fuck could I forget?”

“I hope you’re being nice to him, after all he went through.”

“Jesus, Lindz! You make me sound like the Wicked Witch of the fucking West! You think I can’t be nice to someone?”

“Well... “

“I’m fine! He’s fine! We’re both fine!”

“I was only asking, Bri. You don’t need to bite my head off!”

“Sorry. I’m fucking freezing out here! And there goes my lighter again! I can’t get the goddamn cigarette lit! Fuck it!”

“Why don’t you go up to the main house and call from there?”

“Because I’d like a little privacy, that’s why! But I won’t have much choice when it starts to get cold. I’ll freeze my remaining... I mean I’ll freeze my ass off.”

“So, you’re staying there through the winter?”

“That was the plan. I might as well stick it out.”

“I can’t believe you’re staying there so long! With no bars or clubs nearby.”

“Like I’ve been hanging out in any clubs or bars at home! Jesus, Lindsay, use your brain!”

“I mean... being so far from... you know! I know you, Brian. And I know your wicked ways.”

“My wicked ways are fabulous. And so is my dick. Don’t worry your empty little head about my dick.”

“But...”

“I said, don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

“But... wait a minute. That boy. Justin Taylor. Brian – you aren’t...?”

“Aren’t what?”

“Fooling around with that young boy?”

“No one’s fooling. It’s completely serious. And he’s not a boy. He’ll be 24 in December.”

“Oh, Brian!”

“Christ, Lindz! Don’t sound like his mother!”

“Does his mother know?”

“How the hell should I know? I don’t know what he tells her! Anyway, Justin’s a grown man. He can fuck if he wants to – he doesn’t need his mommy’s permission. It’s no one else’s fucking business!”

“Does Mrs. Minnett know about this?”

“Who knows? Maybe she’s got a nanny cam hidden in the drapes and she’s watching us when we fuck. Or broadcasting to the internet. Like I said, it’s none of her fucking business! Or yours!”

“Really, Brian! You’re impossible!”

“I do my best.”

“Now, about Gus and I visiting...”

“Forget it!”

“But Bri...”

“How many time do I have to tell you? I don’t want you here! I don’t want Gus here!”

“What am I supposed to tell him when he asks for you?”

“I e-mail him. I call him once a week. What more do you want out of me?”

“It isn’t what I want, it’s what Gus wants – his father!”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you moved out of the goddamn country.”

“You know why we moved, Brian.”

“Because you and Mel are a couple of cowards who are teaching your kids to be cowards, too? By the way, has Mel found a job yet?”

“She’s still doing temp work at the legal aid society. But I got another commission to do a portrait of a woman’s cat. If she likes it, she’s going to have me do her dog, too. It’s only $200, but every penny helps. Toronto is so expensive! Which reminds me...”

“How much do you need?”

“Christmas is coming up, Bri. And they raised J.R.’s day care rates.”

“Why am I paying for J.R. now? I thought Smelly Melly rejected my evil sperm.”

“She can’t ask Michael. He’s still angry because of the move!”

“Gee, I wonder why? Maybe because his partner got blown up, and his foster kid ran away and he has no fucking idea where he is, and then you two bitches decide to take his kid across the border to Canada? You think?”

“You’re being unfair, Brian!”

“I’m only telling you the truth, Lindz.”

“And what about telling Gus the truth?”

“So tell him! Tell him that his old man doesn’t want him to see him like this. That he’d rather have him remember his father the way he used to be. Tell him to look at a picture and pretend I’m there. Because that’s the way it’s going to be.”

“I wish you’d change your mind.”

“Brian!” He heard Justin calling from up the path. “Br... Brian?”

“Who’s that I hear?”

“It’s Justin. Hey! I’m over here! I’ll talk to you later, Lindz. E-mail me how much you need and I’ll write a check.”

“Thanks, Bri. I love you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He snapped the cellphone shut.

“Wh... who were you talking to?” Justin sat down next to Brian in the bluff.

“Lindsay. She wants me to go up to Toronto to see Gus.”

“Why d... don’t you do it?”

“When pigs fly. Her even worse suggestion was that she and Gus come here and stay in the cottage.”

“That would be awesome!” Justin exclaimed. “I can g... get the rooms upstairs ready. What does Gus like to eat? I’ll make his f... favorites! Why don’t they come for Th... Thanksgiving? I’ve never cooked a turkey before, but Mara can help me. I really want to m... meet Gus!”

“It’s not going to happen,” said Brian. 

“B... but...”

“Don’t push it, Sunshine. I said no. And you know why.”

They sat quietly, watching the sun go down over the lake.

“It’s really getting ch... chilly at night, isn’t it?” Justin commented. “I’m glad Mr. Quigley brought m... more logs.”

“Yeah, I’d hate to have to go out and chop down a fucking tree to keep our asses warm.”

“If you had to, you’d d... do it.” 

“I guess.”

“Br... Brian, I have some n... news.”

“More news? Great.”

“No! It’s g... good news! Mrs. M... Minnett wants me to... to sub... submit some of my p... pieces to an art show.”

“Really?” Brian put his arm around Justin’s shoulder. “The great artiste makes a comeback!”

“I know!” Justin laughed. “The only problem is... it’s at the G... Gay and Lesbian Center.”

“The GLC?” Brian rolled his eyes. “Figures. Every silver lining has a fucking cloud.”

“I haven’t submitted anything yet. They m... might not accept me.”

“Oh, they’ll accept you,” said Brian. “I’m sure of it.”

Justin gazed out at the lake. “Be... because I was bashed?” 

“No,” Brian asserted. “Because you’re good. Now let’s get inside before we turn into icicles.”

“It’s only October! Too early f... for icicles!”

“Oh? You want to check my cock? It might need to be defrosted – personally!”

“I think I c... can do that!” Justin stood up. “I’ll r... race you back to the c... cottage!”

“Don’t taunt an old man, Sunshine,” said Brian, standing up slowly and brushing a few leaves off his jeans. “Here – help me along.”

“Always,” said Justin – and he took Brian’s hand.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad dreams.

Part 18

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

Justin climbed out of the depths of sleep when he felt Brian thrashing around.

“Brian! W... wake up!” He shook him gently. “Brian!”

“What!” Brian bolted upright and looked around, dazed. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m dandy,” said Brian. “I need to piss.”

Justin watched his lover get out of bed slowly, painfully. Brian was so strong and vital that it shook him to see that in many ways he was still injured. Justin had become attuned to Brian’s moods and movement, so it was obvious when he was aching, even though he hid any hint of weakness zealously. But as the weather got colder, it seemed to affect Brian more, especially when he was getting up in the morning. Or in the middle of the night.

Justin heard the toilet flush and Brian padded back to the bed, his tall figure silhouetted against the window. Justin’s heart raced when he looked at him.

“Get in,” said Justin. “It’s f... freezing!”

“I know,” said Brian. “But I don’t feel the cold. Theodore used to say it was because I was an alien, cold-blooded and cold-hearted, like a lizard.”

“That’s b... bullshit. I don’t think you’re cold-blooded or cold-hearted,” Justin offered.

“Wait until you know me better.” Brian eased himself back on the pillow. “Then you’ll find out, like everyone else does.”

“I already know you p... pretty well,” said Justin. 

“How so?”

“Who else has lived with you for over t... two months, 24/7? Slept with you every n... night? Eaten every m... meal with you? Worked next you? And lived to tell the t... tale?”

“No one,” Brian conceded. “But that doesn’t mean you know shit about me.”

“Let’s see,” said Justin. “You l... love your son, but pretend you don’t want to see him. You love your friends, but p... pretend you don’t give a fuck about them. You pretend that you live for your job, but you secretly think everyone you work with and the c... clients you work for are jerks and douchebags. You claim to hate this c... cottage, but you cling to it because you f... feel safe here. And you call me a t... twat and Little Miss S... Sunshine and a b... babbling idiot, but I know for a fact that you are actually m... madly in love with me!”

“Now I know you’re delusional,” said Brian, reaching for the joint he had stashed in the bedside stand. “I don’t recognize that person at all.”

“You might if you looked in a mirror,” Justin said quietly. “Instead of covering them.”

Brian lit the joint, but didn’t answer. He sucked in the sweet, bitter smoke, filling his head with the numbing sensation of the pot.

“What was the nightmare?” Justin asked.

“What nightmare?”

“I know you had one. You woke me up.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare,” Brian insisted.

“I used to have them every single n... night, first in the hospital, then at home,” said Justin. “I’d w... wake up screaming so loudly all the nurses would come running, thinking I was d... dying. Then at home my mother would come into my r... room, crying, trying to comfort me. I don’t think either of us slept through the n... night for months.”

“What were you having nightmares about?”

Justin shrugged. “The bashing. I g... guess. That’s the th... thing. I can’t remember the nightmares, any more than I can remember the attack. I used to hope that one night I’d remember the n... nightmare, and if I could remember it, then I’d remember the b... bashing. But I never did. I still haven’t.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be s... sorry about. It’s just another blank in my life. Another empty space.” Justin watched the smoke swirl around Brian’s face. “Were you dreaming of... of the bombing?”

Brian winced. He always winced when someone said that word. He never said it himself. He didn’t think he could say it. Not out loud anyway.

“No. I never dream about it. Not once. That’s not my nightmare. Nothing connected to that night.”

“Than what?” Justin pressed.

“It’s everything else. I dream about the diner. My loft. Babylon and the backroom. Old tricks. Liberty Avenue. Old friends. My old life. A life that’s gone forever. Fucking forever.”

“G... gone?” Justin whispered.

“Gone. You can’t bring back the past, except in dreams. Then it comes back so real, so vivid, like it’s still there. Still within reach. That all you have to do is open your eyes and everything will be the way it was. Untouched.” Brian squeezed his eyes shut. “Usually I’m sitting in the diner.” 

“What diner?”

“The one on Liberty Avenue. Michael’s mother worked there. We used to meet in that place at least once a day, sometimes more. That’s what I keep dreaming. In the back booth. Michael and Ben are pushed in next to me, jamming me against the wall and wrinkling my new Marc Jacobs shirt. Ted and Emmett are on the other side of the table. I’m eating a burger and fries with plenty of ketchup. Mikey has a BLT and he keeps stealing fries from my plate. The Professor is chewing on some kind of soy-veggie burger shit. I mean, fuck, Zen Ben! If you’re going to eat greasy junk food, go all the way, right? Emmett orders something spicy – he loved spicy food – Thai chicken with peanut sauce. Ted has a tuna sandwich on white bread. He’s complaining about some guy who ignored him. Or he’s complaining about his job. Or about whatever. Theodore was always bitching about something. And Emmett is calling him out on it. That’s what Emmett did – call people on their shit. Even me.”

Justin smiled. “I think I w... would have liked Emmett.”

“Probably. You’re both nosy nelly queens with great big balls of brass who aren’t afraid of anything.” 

“Is that m... me?” said Justin. “A nelly queen w... with brass b... balls?”

“If the jockstrap fits.” Brian took another toke. “Or else I’m at Babylon. I can’t hear the song, just the beat. The beat fills up everything. It’s like a giant heart. Mikey and the Professor are standing at the bar, looking at the dancers. Theodore is hitting on every twink who walks by and getting dissed by all of them. Emmett is dancing all by himself, one hand on his hip and the other in the air, like he’s hailing a fucking cab! He looks totally ridiculous. And I’m watching. Waiting. That’s when I see him. The Trick du Jour. He’s tall and lean. Or he’s short and muscular. He’s blond with lots of teeth. Or dark and smoldering. It doesn’t matter, really. He’s only for the moment. Not even for the night. Just... another backroom blowjob. Another faceless fuck. But whoever he is, he’s glad to have me. Because I’m the best fuck in town. Once you’ve been had by Brian Kinney, you can die happy.”

“But he can only have you once,” said Justin. He already knew that story.

“I’d occasionally go back for seconds, but only in a pinch. Because the world is full of beautiful guys. An infinite number in infinite variety. But... now.” Brian shook his head.

“Now you have to... to make d... do with me.” Justin felt a lump in his throat. “If you h... hadn’t been... been hurt, you’d never have looked t... twice at me.”

Brian dropped the joint into the ashtray next to the bed. “That’s not true. I would have. I know I would.”

“Don’t lie,” said Justin. “I know I’m j... just a convenience. I don’t mind that, because I’ll take what I can g... get. I c... can’t afford to be... be...” Justin frowned, reaching for the word. “Choosy. I’m thankful for th... that.”

“Bullshit!” Brian exclaimed. “That’s not why you’re here! If I didn’t want you here, you’d be gone. Or I’d be gone. I don’t have to stay here, you know. I could leave tomorrow. But I don’t want to. Did you ever think about why I’m still in this fucking cottage? Michael and Lindsay can’t believe I’ve lasted this long. Little do they know it’s because...” he stopped and was very still. 

“B... because?” Justin asked.

“Because of you.” When he said those words it was as if a huge weight had been lifted. “That’s the fucking truth. I... I care about you. I want you to be here, in this bed, with me. I still have those dreams, but when I wake up, you’re here – and then it isn’t so horrible. I’m not alone. I can face it somehow. I can face what’s gone. Because there’s a present. I don’t know if there’s a future, but I actually have a present. I don’t dread each day. I don’t wish...” He put his arms around Justin and held him tightly. “I don’t wake up every morning wishing I were dead.”

“But you’re alive!” said Justin. “We’re both alive! I love you, and that’s something worth living for. At least it is to me. Maybe you don’t l... love me, but you care! That’s enough. That you care!”

Brian swallowed. He put his forehead against Justin’s, pressing his head firmly, as if they were joined together. “I do,” he said. “I think I do.”

Justin held his breath. “Do what?”

“Love you,” said Brian. “I love you.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Miracle?

Part 19

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

“Justin? Brian? Are you here?”

Justin was surprised to hear the Major’s voice, calling from the front of the cottage. He came out from the kitchen to see the door opening, Harvey’s golden head inside, and then the Major, frowning.

“I’m here, Major. Hey, Harvey.”

“I wasn’t sure if anyone was at home,” said the Major. “Or... if I was interrupting anything.”

Justin laughed. “You aren’t interrupting anything! I was in the kitchen, working on one of my pieces for the art show. And Brian is off on a walk. He should be back soon. I’m surprised you came all the way down here.”

“It was such a fine day for November, I thought Harvey and I should stretch our legs before the first snowfall. How is your work coming along?”

“Great!” Justin said brightly. “Sit down. Right over here.” Justin steered the Major to the sofa. “Would you like some tea? I just made a pot.”

“Yes, I’d like that. And some water for Harvey, please.”

“Sure.”

Justin poured a cup for the Major and one for himself, along with a bowl of water for the dog. Then he settled into the armchair next to the fire. “We don’t get many visitors. It’s nice to have someone stop by. Makes it feel like a real home.”

“This is good tea,” said the Major. “I love Earl Grey. It feels nice in here. Warm. Welcoming. Are you and Brian... doing well?”

Justin grinned. “We’re doing great! Brian is so different from the way people think of him. He’s so sweet and caring. And supportive, too. He’s almost as excited about the art show as I am.”

“Ah, the art show! I knew you’d be accepted, Justin. You strike me as a young man who can do anything you put your mind to,” said the Major. “And I must say that I’ve been coming down to this cottage for many years, but it feels different today. Something has changed. And you seem like you’ve changed.”

“I have changed,” said Justin. “No one knows it yet, but we’ve both changed, Brian and I. You’re the first person to come to the cottage since it happened, so you’re the first person to know. But soon everyone will know – Mrs. Minnett, Mr. Quigley, Mara, my mother, the whole world!” Justin stood up and spread his arms. “It’s a fucking miracle! That’s what Brian says!”

“What?” said the Major. “What do you mean, a miracle?”

“We’ve changed,” Justin repeated. “I’m better. No, not just better – I’m the way I was before the bashing! It’s like it never happened!”

“What are you talking about?” asked the Major.

“The miracle! It’s like it happened overnight. I’m cured, Major! I really am! I never thought I’d be back to normal, but I am! I’m even drawing and painting again! That’s why I’m working in the kitchen. I lay out my prints on the big kitchen table and draw and paint on top of them. It’s fucking fantastic! My hand gets a little cramped, but I can use it! Soon I’ll be able to do anything! I’m a little rusty, but it’s getting better every day!”

“Well, that truly does seem fantastic,” said the Major. “But it’s hardly a miracle, Justin. You’ve been working with it and using t, so naturally your hand is improving.”

“But that’s not all,” said Justin. “It’s Brian, too. He’s changed.”

“So you said. I imagine that living with a person and having a relationship with him, especially someone like you, Justin, might change his attitude for the better. Mrs. Minnett says that Brian was a troubled and bitter man before.”

“He was,” Justin admitted. “But Brian loves me and I love him. He’s told me so. He could never say that to anyone before and now he can admit it. But it’s more than that. Much more.”

“More?” the Major asked. “What do you mean?”

“You know how they say that this cottage is... is magic in some way?”

The Major smiled. “Charlie used to call it the Enchanted Cottage. When he was a small boy he thought this was a magical place. And it is magical, in a way. It was originally built as a Bride House – a small dwelling apart from the main estate where the newlyweds could have their privacy and get to know one another away from prying eyes. James’ grandparents lived here during their first year of marriage, as did his own parents. And Abigail and James followed suit. All of those turned out to be very happy marriages. I know Abigail hoped that one day Charlie would bring his own bride back here. But...”

“But he was gay,” said Justin. “And then he was killed.”

“Unfortunately,” said the Major. “But I don’t understand...”

“The cottage,” said Justin. “Charlie was right – it’s enchanted. It really is. It can work miracles. I’m the proof. And so is Brian.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the Major.

“My hand,” said Justin, holding up his right hand and flexing it. “It works now. And my seizures have stopped. My limp – it’s gone! So are my headaches! And... haven’t you noticed? My stammer is gone completely. And that fuzzy feeling I used to get – vanished!”

“I did notice that your speech seems clearer, but that’s natural. Time has passed and you’re healing. I don’t think the cottage...”

“It IS the cottage!” Justin insisted. “It’s cured me! And it’s cured Brian, too! It isn’t only his heart that’s changed – it’s his body. His scars. They’re gone! All of them! It’s like they never existed!”

“Well,” said the Major, unsure of how to respond. “That is... amazing.”

“It isn’t just amazing,” said Justin. “It’s a real miracle! And it’s true!”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian believes in the Miracle.

Part 20

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

“You’re coming to Pittsburgh!” Michael shouted with excitement. “When?”

“Pipe down, Mikey,” said Brian, holding the cellphone away from his ear. “They didn’t hear you across the lake in Canada.”

“Where the heck are you? Are you outside?” asked Michael.

“I’m in my favorite phone-call-making spot – a large rock overlooking Lake Erie,” Brian replied. “But I won’t be able to sit here much longer. Soon I’ll have to trudge all the way up to the big house to make a call.”

“How come they don’t have a phone line in that place?”

“It’s supposed to be shut off from the world. That’s the purpose of the place – for the heir and his bride to make another heir in peace and quiet. And I guess that can be a good thing – unless you need to make a fucking phone call! Mrs. Minnett put an internet line into the place just for me. It didn’t seem to occur to her that a phone line would be a good thing, too.”

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay there so long, Brian. I thought you’d be back in the loft the next week!” said Michael.

“I almost was,” Brian confessed. “But then I decided to tough it out.”

“But now you’re coming back!” Michael almost shouted again. “I can’t believe it! When are you coming? Ma is going to want you to come over for dinner. And we have to go to Woody’s. And...”

“Hold your horses, Mikey!” said Brian. “Let’s take things one at a time. I’m coming down there for a specific reason.”

“Does Vance have some presentation he wants you to do?”

“Hardly,” Brian sniffed. “He still thinks I should be heard, but not seen, although he may change his mind sooner than he imagines.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain now,” said Brian. “It’s too... I just can’t. You’ll have to wait and see. And I do mean see, But you won’t fucking believe it!”

“Believe what?”

“You’ll see. But the reason I’m coming down there is that some of Justin’s pieces are going to be in the art show at the GLC.” 

“The GLC? The Gay and Lesbian Center?”

“Yes. I know they’re a bunch of dickless wonders at the Center, but Justin has to start somewhere and that place is as good as any. The opening is Friday, December 1, so mark it on your calendar. They’re having a big party for all the artists and press and friends, so I want you and Deb and Carl there. Justin and I will come down a day or two before so he can make sure they have his stuff displayed correctly. You know how important it is to get things exactly right.”

“Justin?” Michael sounded puzzled. “You mean that kid who works at the estate? The one who cleans the cottage?”

“He doesn’t work at the estate,” said Brian. “He’s another guest here, like I am, only he’s been here longer. He was bashed a couple of years ago. Remember that kid who was attacked at his prom? And then the trial of the creeps who did it?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Michael. “I didn’t know that was the same kid. And he’s an artist?”

“He was,” said Brian. “And now he is again. A very talented artist. You should see some of the work he’s done. It’s fucking genius! He combines photos with computer graphics and then he draws and paints on top of the prints. It’s amazing stuff. You’d never know that only a few months ago he could barely hold a pencil or make a straight line.”

“That’s... nice,” Michael said suspiciously. “And he shows you his artwork?”

“He does more than show me!” Brian laughed. “I’m his favorite model!”

Michael was dumbstruck. “You’re... what?”

“His model, Mikey! Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

“Yeah, I heard you, but I didn’t believe it. You’re his... model?”

“What’s so strange about that?” Brian huffed. “I’ve been working out again. I might not be in the shape I was in a couple of years ago, but I’m not bad. Not bad at all. And my dick is better than ever, if I do say so myself!”

Michael gulped. “You let this kid take pictures of your dick?”

“Why not?” said Brian. “I let him do more than just take pictures of it.”

“Brian! Are you fucking this kid?” Michael was shouting again.

“Jesus! Now you sound like Lindsay!” Brian shivered as the wind whipped up on the bluff. “Yes, I’m fucking him! His name is Justin, by the way, so you might as well start using it. And...” Brian paused. “He’s also fucking me.”

“What?!” Michael practically jumped through the phone. “Brian! What the hell is going on?”

“I knew you’d freak out,” Brian sighed melodramatically. “That’s why I didn’t tell you before. We’re... I don’t know. Lovers? Partners? I fucking detest those bullshit labels.”

“Lovers?” Michael was incredulous. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then how about saying that you’re happy for me?” Brian’s tone turned serious.

“But who is this... this kid? I mean, this... Justin?” Michael’s voice was shaking.

“He’s a guy,” said Brian. “A very talented, very understanding, and very patient guy. He’d have to be to put up with me. But... I’ve changed, Michael. I told you that I can’t explain it, but it’s true.”

“But I don’t want you to change!” Michael insisted. “Brian, you were perfect the way you were! Brian fucking Kinney!”

“I haven’t been Brian fucking Kinney for a long time, Michael. And you know why.”

“That’s not true! You don’t need to change, Brian!”

“Then why did I come here? Why did you and Lindsay practically hogtie me to get me here? So that I could take stock of my life. So I could change – or die. And that’s what I’ve done.” 

“Brian...” Michael was almost in tears.

“It’s for the best, Mikey. I couldn’t go on the way I was. Justin’s helped me to see that. And then... when it happened, I didn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it. Or I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“What happened?” said Michael, mystified. “What did you see?”

“The miracle,” said Brian. “I can’t tell you about it. You’ll have to see it for yourself. And you will – when we come to Pittsburgh, right after Thanksgiving. That’s when everyone will see what’s happened.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doubts.

Part 21

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

“Hey!” Justin called as he came into the cottage. He pulled off his scarf and gloves and then kicked off his muddy boots on the mat. “I saw a few flakes of snow as I was walking back from the main house.”

“In a few weeks we’ll practically be snowed in here,” said Brian. He got up from his desk and pulled Justin into his arms, unzipping his down jacket. “I hope we don’t starve.”

“We’ll have to think of other things to eat,” Justin smirked.

“And different ways to keep warm,” added Brian, taking Justin by the hand. “They’ll find our mummified bodies in the spring. We’ll be dead, but we’ll have smiles on our faces. Come on... let’s begin right now.”

“You crack me up, Brian!” said Justin. “Let me hang up my coat first.”

By the time Justin joined Brian in his bedroom, Brian had stripped and was lounging on the bed. “I’ve been horny all afternoon and waiting for some relief. What kept you up there so long?”

“Talking to Mrs. Minnett about Thanksgiving,” said Justin, taking off his clothes.

Brian rolled his eyes. “I know we have to make an appearance for dinner, but does it have to be a big fucking production? Can’t we stop by, grab a couple of turkey legs and some stuffing, and then head back here for our own celebration?”

“Unfortunately, no,” said Justin, climbing onto the bed next to Brian. “I talked to my mom on the phone at the house. She’s coming for Thanksgiving.”

“Shit.” Brian curled his lip. “See what talking about your mother has done to my dick?”

“No problem,” said Justin. “Your cock is like Old Faithful – it’ll be back up right on schedule.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was an old geezer, not an old geyser?”

“You can’t be serious even for a minute, can you?” Justin said, prodding him with his finger.

“I’m sick of being serious!” Brian grunted. “But now your mom is coming here. I can’t think of anything more serious than the mother of the guy you’re fucking barging in to look you up and down and then ream you out for ravaging her pure and innocent little darling!”

“My mom isn’t going to ream you out, Brian!” Justin insisted. “She only wants to meet you. I’ve told her a lot about you.”

Brian winced. “I can just imagine what you’ve told her! She’ll probably show up at the door with a shotgun and the sheriff – or a justice of the peace!”

“Even a justice of the peace can’t marry two gay men in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania,” Justin pointed out.

“Then she’ll lock us both in a van and ferry us to Toronto,” Brian huffed. “Or Massachusetts. Or wherever the fuck fags can get married. At least you’re not pregnant – yet!”

“Why can’t you be the pregnant one?” Justin asked.

“Because...” Brian paused. “Fuck! I could be! Good thing we always use a condom.”

“About that...” Justin began.

“Always!” Brian stated. “We’ve already had this discussion. No fucking exceptions, twat!”

“I know,” said Justin. “Only testing you.” He stroked Brian’s chest, feeling the curls of dark hair between his pecs. “I can’t believe you used to wax your chest! Didn’t it hurt?”

“I waxed more than my chest,” Brian said. “And you don’t know what pain is until you’ve been waxed in some of the places I have. But that’s over now. It’s bullshit. I’m not a hairless twink anymore – if I ever really was one. And you...”

“I’m a twink, but hardly hairless.” Justin lifted one leg, which was covered with blond fur.

“I know, you’re quite the little beast, aren’t you?” He began kissing his way up Justin’s proffered leg.

“Thanks. Now – about my mother...”

“Jesus!” Brian flopped onto his back. “There goes my dick again! Heading south!”

“Brian, really!” said Justin. “We have to decide how we’re going to handle... everything. What are we going to tell her?”

“Tell her the truth,” Brian suggested. “You took one look at my cock and... bingo! You were a big old queer homo sissy mary! And she’ll have to deal with it.”

“She’s known I was gay since I was bashed,” Justin reminded him. “I meant about... what’s happened. To us. Here in the cottage.”

Brian took a deep breath. “I don’t know. How did the Major take it when you told him?”

Justin shrugged. “I don’t think he really believed it. He can’t see us, after all. But he told me he felt that something was different. So...”

“What about Mrs. Minnett? She hasn’t been down here at all. And I haven’t been up to the house recently. What did she say about... what’s happened?”

Justin frowned. “It was funny. I told her, but she didn’t really seem surprised. She smiled and said that what did we expect living in the Enchanted Cottage? So I told her it wasn’t a joke. That it was a miracle! And she looked at me and said that there were a lot of different ways miracles happen. That some are on the outside and some on the inside. That some are in your head and others in your heart. But the only ones that matter in the long run are the ones you share with the person you love. That’s what the cottage is all about – making that connection with one special person. And that everything else is irrelevant.”

“That sounds fucking ominous.” Brian reached for the joint he had waiting in the drawer of the bedside table. He suddenly felt uneasy. “I think I’ll skip the whole Thanksgiving fiasco. I’m not a big fan of turkey. I’ll stay down here and drink my dinner.”

“Brian, you have to come!” Justin cried. “If you’re worried about my mother, don’t be! She’ll love you, just like I love you. When she sees you, everything will fall into place! She’ll see how beautiful you are! And how kind and thoughtful and wonderful!”

“She will, huh?” 

“Yes!” Justin smacked him hard on the thigh. “Listen to me! When she meets you she’ll understand why I love you. And then when we go down to Pittsburgh for the art show... well, maybe we can start thinking about what we’re going to do when we leave here.”

Brian felt a chill creep up his spine, like a tiny black spider. He shoved the unlit joint back into the drawer. 

“When we leave here,” he repeated. “Yes, that’s the real question. What will happen when we leave here.” 

Justin leaned closer. “Brian? Is something wrong? Are you worried about going to Pittsburgh? Because it’s going to be great! I know it will be!”

“Sure,” said Brian. “It’ll be everything you want it to be. The beginning of a whole new life. Now... what are we waiting for?” He rolled Justin over and began licking his way down his broad, pale back. “This is what’s really important. What we have right here, in this bed. Let’s make love.”

But the rest of the sentence remained unspoken. Echoing in Brian’s head.

While we still can.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Thanksgiving dinner.

Part 22

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

“I’m nervous,” said Justin as he and Brian set off from the cottage on their way to the main house.

“Afraid your pumpkin pie won’t pass muster after you spent all day in the fucking kitchen, making the thing perfect?” said Brian. “No problem. We’ll stay home and eat it ourselves. Instead of dried out turkey we can roast a couple of wienies in the fireplace. So let’s go back.”

“Brian! I’m not joking!” Justin replied. But he gripped the pie container tighter.

“Neither am I.” Brian shoved his hands into the pockets of his long leather coat. “Fuck! I forgot my gloves. We have to go back.”

“Come on, Brian! No stalling!” Justin urged. “Don’t you want to meet my mother?”

“Not really,” said Brian. “Damn, it’s getting cold!”

“It snowed a little last night,” said Justin, squinting up into the dark sky. “When I got up this morning there was a dusting on the grass.”

“We’ll be up to our waists in the white stuff before long. Lake Erie is a fucking snow machine.” Brian stopped and fumbled inside his coat. “I guess I don’t have time for one more cigarette before we get to the execution. I know Mrs. Minnett won’t let me smoke inside.”

“It’s not an execution, Brian.” Justin touched his arm. “It’s a nice family-type Thanksgiving dinner with Mrs. Minnett, the Major, and my mom. It’ll be great!”

“If you’d had my family, you’d wouldn’t think it was so great. You’d want to avoid any suggestion of holiday dinners. I remember one Thanksgiving my old man didn’t like the cranberry sauce, so he threw it against the dining room wall. My mother refused to clean it up, so it stayed on that wall for days, like a congealed abstract painting – or a bloody crime scene. Finally, Claire couldn’t stand it anymore and wiped the mess off. She should have left it. It’s been almost twenty years, but I bet it would have still been there.”

“I never know whether to believe the stories about your family,” Justin commented. “They sound a little over the top.”

Brian lifted one eyebrow. “That’s the Kinneys – always over the top. Maybe if you met them you’d understand me a little better.”

“That’s exactly why I want you to know my mother,” said Justin. “To understand me.”

“I understand you fine, twat. I don’t need the whole Taylor clan in order to know you. You’re the one I’m fucking – not them.”

“I miss seeing my mother,” Justin admitted. “It’ll be nice, Brian. Really. The only bad thing is that my sister Molly won’t be there. She’s with my father for Thanksgiving.”

As they walked, a few flakes began coming down. The main house was lit up and looked welcoming in the distance.

“The house is beautiful at Christmas,” said Justin. “Mr. Quigley cuts down a big tree and puts it in the parlor. Mrs. Minnett has tons of antique ornaments, some of them a hundred years old. Last year we played Christmas records on her old stereo while we decorated the tree. Mrs. Minnett loves the holidays, but I know she misses her son especially at this time of year.”

“Yeah, it sucks like that,” Brian sighed. “Which is why I always spend every holiday locked in my loft with a couple bottles of prime Bourbon. By the time I sober up – bingo! – the holidays are over!”

“Not this year,” said Justin, linking his arm through Brian’s.

“Here we are.” Brian took a deep breath. “Do we have to knock or just walk right in?”

Justin pushed the front door open. “It’s not like we’re company. Mom! Mrs. Minnett! Major! We’re here!”

Harvey barked and trotted into the foyer, wagging his tail. 

“Hey, boy!” said Justin to the dog. “Looking forward to turkey?”

“He can have mine,” said Brian.

Brian wiped his boots on the mat while Justin hung up their coats in the guest closet.

Mara came out of the side hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. “The Mrs. and her guests are in the library. Is it snowing again?”

“A little,” said Justin. “When did my mom get here?”

“An hour ago,” said Mara. “She and the Mrs. and Major Hillgrove are trying some of the new Charlot. Your cheeks are so red, Justin! Go in and get warm by the fire!”

“I brought a pie.” Justin handed her the container. “It’s pumpkin, like I made last year. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, except without all the liquor.”

“I told him to put in plenty of Bourbon, but he refused,” said Brian.

“I missed your help this year,” said Mara, smiling. “But I managed somehow. And I put garlic in the mashed potatoes, the way you like it.”

“Thanks!” Justin grinned. He watched Mara head back to the kitchen. “She didn’t say anything. I mean... about... it.”

“What’s she supposed to say?” Brian nervously adjusted his sweater. “We better go in.”

“This is it,” said Justin, clutching Brian’s hand. “Wait until Mrs. Minnett sees us! And my mom, too! That’s the real reason why I was so nervous. But I’m fine now! It’s going to be fine! Isn’t it? Brian?”

“Shut the fuck up. And let’s go.” 

Brian squeezed Justin’s hand as they walked into the brightly lit library.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Truth hurts.

Part 23

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

“Darling!” 

Jennifer Taylor jumped up and ran over to embrace her son.

“Hi, Mom.” Justin blushed and tried to pull away.

“I’m so glad to see you!” Jennifer couldn’t let go. “I’ve missed you so much! It’s been – what? Six months?”

“Seven,” said Justin. “It was Easter.”

Jennifer wiped a tear from her eye. “Where does the time go? But, honey! You look wonderful! So wonderful!”

Justin now beamed. “I know! It’s... well, I’ll explain later. What do you think of me being in the art show at the Gay and Lesbian Center?”

Jennifer hesitated. Even after all this time, she still felt uncomfortable with the whole gay thing. But she wanted to be supportive. “I... I think it’s marvelous. The Gay and Lesbian Center is... it’s such a nice place. The people there have been so helpful.”

“Have you been going to the PFLAG meetings?” Justin asked. He glanced at Brian, who rolled his eyes.

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “But I’ve been so busy, darling,” said Jennifer. “I sold a house yesterday! It’s going to be a fine Christmas! I’m so looking forward to all of us being together this year!”

“I... I don’t know about that.” Justin frowned. “Mrs. Minnett needs me here to help decorate the house. And... and Brian and I might have plans.” He turned to his lover. “Mom, I want you to meet Brian.”

Brian swallowed. Here goes nothing. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Taylor.” He stepped forward and held out his hand.

Jennifer Taylor stared at the man who was sleeping with her son. She had tried not to look at him as they came in, hoping he might disappear. But he didn’t disappear. He was a reality she was going to have to deal with. And he... he...

Jennifer blinked. She tried not to flinch as she stared at the angry scars on his face. Abigail Minnett had warned her that Brian Kinney had been badly injured in the bombing at the gay club, but being told about it and seeing the actual damage were two very different things. It was such a shame, too, because it was obvious that he’d been a very handsome man. Well, it could be worse, she thought. He’s not completely disfigured. And it’s only one side of his face. Mrs. Minnett had said the scars had faded – a little – although apparently he also had burns on his back. He was probably a very... fine man. Yes, but still, it was a shock to look at him.

And upsetting to think about Justin sleeping with him. Living with him. Thinking he was in love with him.

Jennifer gritted her teeth. “I’m... pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Kinney.”

“Call me Brian,” he said. But then he looked away.

His face. She was staring at his face. Staring at his scars. And recoiling from them.

There was no fucking miracle. He and Justin had only been fooling themselves.

“Yes... Brian.” Jennifer pulled her hand away. “So... isn’t this nice?”

“Mom, what’s the matter?” Justin demanded.

“Nothing,” Brian interrupted. “You know, I’m not feeling too well. I think I’ll say goodnight and go back to the cottage. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Brian! No!” Justin cried. “You c... can’t go! We have to explain what’s h... happened! About the m... miracle!”

“What’s going on?” asked the Major from his chair by the fire. “Abigail? What’s happening?”

Mrs. Minnett stood up and went over, gently taking Justin’s elbow. “Come and sit down, my dear, and we’ll talk about this.”

“N... no!” he shook off her touch. “D... don’t you all see? Look at m... my hand!” He held up his right hand. “It’s c... cured! And Brian’s f... face! The sc... scars! They’re g... gone!”

Jennifer glanced in dismay at Mrs. Minnett and then at Brian. “What’s he talking about? I don’t understand!”

“There’s nothing to understand, Mrs. Taylor,” Brian said sadly.

“M... my hand!” Justin clenched and unclenched his right hand, but it was trembling. “F... fuck! Wh... what’s wrong with it? Brian! Wh... what’s happening?”

Brian pulled Justin into his arms and held him. “Nothing, Sunshine. Nothing happened. This is the truth. I was afraid this would be the end of this whole charade, but I hoped it wouldn’t be. Hope... hope is a fucking scam! And miracles are nothing but lies. There’s no miracle. There never was.”

“N... no!” Justin buried his face in Brian’s chest. “M... miracles can happen! They d... did happen!”

“No,” Brian whispered. “Look at me, Justin. Look.”

Justin looked up at his lover’s face. He softly stroked it and then he kissed one scar and then another and another. “B... but they were g... gone! They were!” 

“They weren’t,” Brian said. “They’re right here, where they’ve always been. This is the reality.”

“B... but in the cottage... Th... that’s it! It’s the c... cottage,” said Justin. “The Enchanted C... Cottage! L... let’s go back! We’ll be s... safe there!”

“We can’t.” Brian held Justin away from him. “You can’t. It won’t make any difference. This is the way things are. I’m going back now. I’m sorry for missing dinner, Mrs. Minnett, but I know you’ll understand.”

“I’m sorry, too, Brian,” said Mrs. Minnett. “I wish you’d stay.”

“No, but thank you.” Brian turned to go.

“Br... Brian!” Justin began to follow. “I’m g... going, too!”

“No,” Brian said, holding out his hand to stop him. “Your mother came all this way to see you. Stay and talk to her.”

“B... but...”

“No, buts, Justin. Come back to the cottage tonight. I’ll be waiting.”

Justin nodded in defeat. He felt limp and exhausted, as if all the energy had been drawn out of him. The spell was broken. There was no miracle. There never had been.

Then he watched Brian leave, knowing nothing would ever be the same again.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin returns to the cottage.

Part 24

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

Justin trudged back to the cottage in the snow.

He thought about the plans he and Brian had made for the first real snowfall. A snowball fight, followed by making snow angels, followed by a careful, but exciting, fuck outside in the drifts. Then another fuck inside, in front of the fire, followed by a soak in the Jacuzzi, and another fuck in the big, fluffy bed.

But now...

The cottage was dark, except for one light on in the living room. Brian’s bedroom was dark. Maybe he was already asleep.

Or...

Maybe he was gone. 

But gone... where?

He hadn’t thought to check to see if the Corvette was still in the garage.

But Brian has said he’d be waiting.

And Brian always told him the truth, no matter how painful.

Brian had believed in the miracle. He knew he had! 

He’d denied it at first. Said it was an illusion. Impossible. But then... he really did believe.

Justin thought of the night when Brian got out of bed and pulled down the sheets from all the mirrors in the cottage. Then he stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom, naked, and looked at himself. Justin came and stood beside him.

“Do you know that famous photo? Of John Lennon and Yoko Ono? On the cover of ‘Two Virgins’?”

Justin had shook his head. Brian was always mentioning some obscure pop culture artifact. 

“They’re completely naked, as if to say, ‘Here we are! This is what it’s all about. Fuck everyone else!’ Of course, we have much better bodies than John and Yoko, but you know what I’m saying.”

“Yes,” said Justin. “I know exactly what you’re saying.”

And the sheets had remained down. Brian passed the mirrors every day without comment. Without cringing.

He had believed!

Or it had been true. A real miracle.

And now...

Justin opened the cottage door and took off his coat. The fireplace was cold. A single lamp was lit. And everything was deathly still.

Then he saw it.

A single suitcase by the sofa.

Waiting. Waiting to leave the cottage.

The door to Brian’s bedroom was slightly ajar. Justin went in. The room was dark, but he could see the glow of Brian’s cigarette.

He silently undressed and went to the bed. Brian lifted the bedclothes and Justin got in.

“The suitcase...” Justin began.

“Not now,” said Brian. “This first.”

They made love very slowly, almost painfully so. Justin squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to get it over with. Then he opened his eyes and begged for it not to end. His heart was pounding and his head spinning as he dug in and moved against Brian as if they were one body.

“Fuck!” he breathed, one tear spilling from his eye. I’m not going to cry! I’m not! I’m not some weepy little faggot! If this is the end, then I’m going to meet it like a man. Fuck like a man and not a whiny little girl.

“Jesus,” Brian whispered as he came. And he started again.

They continued until they were spent. The room was cold, but they were sweating under the covers. When it was finally finished, they lay there, silently. Brian didn’t reach for a joint, as he usually did, but stared up at the ceiling, waiting.

Waiting.

“The suitcase,” Justin said at last.

“I packed it for you,” said Brian. “You didn’t seem to have one, so I used one of mine. I didn’t put everything in there, but I’ll send the rest of your things later. You can’t carry more than that in this fucking weather. And you’ll need your art portfolio for the show.”

Justin turned and gazed at Brian. “If you think I’m leaving here, you’re f... fucked!”

“Yes, you are leaving here,” Brian replied. “In the morning. You’re going back to the Pitts with your mother to get ready for the art show at the GLC. And after that you’re going to apply to the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art. Maybe you won’t get in this time, but then you’ll try again. And when you’re really ready, you’ll go. And you’ll be a fucking artist, even if it kills you. Because that’s what you have to do.”

“I can do that here!” insisted Justin. “In the cottage! I have my computer and my camera and my paints – and my m... model. I don’t need anything else!”

“Yes, you do,” said Brian. “You need the world. You need to live and not hide away. The longer you stay, the harder it will be to leave. You’ve already stayed too long. It’s time to go.”

“But... the cottage!” Justin cried. “It’s still enchanted! When I’m here, I’m better! I’m... normal! I don’t s... stammer and trip over things and my hand doesn’t seize up. And I can draw and paint. I couldn’t do that before! It’s about being here! This is where I belong – the only place I belong!”

“No,” said Brian. “It’s an illusion. The Enchanted Cottage isn’t a magical place, it’s a trap, Justin. It’s served its purpose. It showed you what you can do. Because your art pieces – they aren’t an illusion. They’re real. If you could make them here, then you can make them in Pittsburgh – or anywhere. As long as you can believe you can do it, then you can.”

“Then I want to stay!” said Justin. “Here – with you!”

“That’s why you have to go.” Brian got out of bed and turned on the light. “Look at me! Really look! What do you see?”

Justin stared at his lover. At the scars. The damage that had been done to him. And every imperfection seemed beautiful. 

“A b... beautiful man! The man I love. The man I’ll always love – no matter what!”

“No matter what,” Brian repeated. “Then it doesn’t matter where you are, or where I am – we can still feel that love. Even after you go.”

“No!” Justin jumped out of bed. “I won’t go! It’s fucked up! Everyone is always trying to make decisions for me – my father, my m... mother, my doctors, Mrs. Minnett – and now you. But I’m a grown man! I can make my own decisions!”

“I know you can,” said Brian. He went to the window and looked out. The snow was coming down harder. Lake effect snow, hard and stinging, pinging against the glass. “So I want you to understand why I want you to leave. I don’t want to carry you, kicking and screaming, up to the main house. I want you to go and know why you have to go.”

“Okay,” said Justin, crossing his arms defiantly. “I’m waiting.”

“You have to go because I love you,” said Brian. “And if you love me, too, then you have to trust me. I’ve lived longer than you and I’m survived shit that should have killed me. Shit that killed better men than I am. And the one thing I’ve learned is that you can’t run away from life. Which is what I’ve been doing ever since I was a kid. I was hurt so badly by my fucking parents and by the fucked up world I saw around me that I rejected the one thing that might have saved me – raw human emotion. Love. Kindness. Compassion. I became a heartless shit because it was easy. Easy to not care about anyone but myself. Easy to look at my best friend and know how much he was in love with me, and yet push him away again and again, while at the same time dangling that little shred of hope that one day we might be together... and knowing I would never allow it to happen. And then playing a woman I knew was deeply in love with me, who would have done anything for me, offering tiny pieces of myself, but always with the condition that she could never have what she truly wanted – which was a life, a family, a future. And then, in a moment of weakness, I gave her a kid. But I’ll never be a father to him. Never be the kind of father he needs and deserves. Because that’s not what I can do, especially now. I’m not a father and never will be. I’m a sperm donor. A thing. Not a real man.”

“It’s not too late!” Justin put his hand on Brian’s shoulder. His touch was gentle because the scars still burned. “Gus is still young. You can still be a father to him. Even if you can’t give Michael or Lindsay what they want, it’s not too late for G... Gus!”

“It is,” Brian whispered. “It’s too late for me. If everything that came before – my parents and the cancer and my whole fucked up life – didn’t do it, then the bombing did.” He turned to Justin. “But it’s not too late for you. All you need to do is take the next step. And you have to take it. Now. It’s time.”

“But...”

“No buts! If you don’t leave tomorrow, then I will. And I’ll never come back. I mean it. I’ll go where no one can follow me. Then you’ll have to leave – or else stay in this fucking Enchanted Cottage all alone until you rot.”

Justin balked. “You’re bluffing. I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me. Go out and look next to my computer.”

Justin went out to the living room and turned on the desk lamp. Sitting next to Brian’s computer was a printed e-ticket – one way – to Ibiza. Justin picked it up and crushed it in his right hand. Then he marched back to the bedroom.

“You wouldn’t!” He threw the crumpled paper at Brian’s feet. “That’s what I think of your noble f... fucking gesture!”

“I’ll just print another one,” said Brian. “I’ve made a reservation at the best hotel on the island. One that overlooks the sea.”

“This is blackmail!” Justin cried.

“If that’s what you want to call it. But one of us is leaving here tomorrow – and never coming back.” Brian walked back to the bed and got in. “No matter what you decide, we have one more night. That’s all. If you want to waste it arguing, then so be it.”

Justin stood, clenching and unclenching his fist. It was trembling, but he wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t be defeated by a fucking hand! Or a fucking baseball bat!

Or Brian fucking Kinney!

Justin turned off the bedroom light and got back into bed.

And he didn’t cry. He promised himself that no matter what else happened to him in his miserable, fucked up life, he’d never let anyone see him cry again.

In the first light of morning he packed his portfolio with his prints for the show, picked up Brian’s suitcase, and walked out of the Enchanted Cottage.

He didn’t look back.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin back in Pittsburgh… and not happy about it.

Part 25

Pittsburgh, Pa., November 2006

 

“Darling, there’s a delivery for you.”

“I’m n... not interested.” Justin turned away from his mother and walked back into his room.

Jennifer followed her son. “It’s from Brian.”

“Then I’m definitely n... not interested.” Justin flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“One of the boxes looks like a computer,” said Jennifer. “Is that the computer Brian got you?”

“P... probably,” Justin replied. “I d... don’t want it.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Jennifer said in exasperation.

“I don’t give a f... fuck!” Justin sniffed. “Throw it out the w... window. D... drag it to the c... curb for the garbageman. Use it for t... target practice.”

Jennifer put her hands on her hips. “If you want to be a brat, go ahead! But don’t blame me! If you want to know the truth, I think Brian Kinney did you a favor by sending you home. He let you know exactly where you stand with him – nowhere! But what did you expect? A long-term relationship? I’ve been talking to Debbie Horvath from PFLAG and she told me that Brian has never been in a relationship in his life! She doesn’t think he’s capable of a having one, especially not after the bombing. And she’s known him since he was in high school!”

“B... before,” Justin whispered. “Brian and her son Michael have been f... friends since they were 14.”

Jennifer ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “Then you know what he’s like! Yes, you’re hurt! But at least he was honest with you. You can’t spend your whole life hiding away, either at the cottage or in this room! Daphne’s called about fifty times, wanting to see you. She doesn’t understand why you won’t talk to her. And Molly thinks you’re mad at her! You’ve been home since Friday and she’s barely even seen you! And you have to eat something! Or are you planning to starve yourself to death for love of this Brian Kinney?”

Justin sat up and glared at his mother. “I’m not s... starving myself! I’m n... not fucking hungry!”

“Fine,” said Jennifer. “Suit yourself. By the way, Tannis from the Gay and Lesbian Center called to ask when you were going to bring over your pieces for the show.”

Justin closed his eyes, shutting out the world. “I’ve d... decided I don’t want to b... be in the art show.”

Jennifer felt like she’d been punched. “Not be in the show? What are you talking about?”

“Wh... what’s the point, Mom?” Justin spat. He held up his right hand, which was shaking as he tried to clench and unclench it. “L... look at my hand! It’s as g... gimpy as it ever was! How c... can I pretend to be an artist? What’s the f... fucking point?”

Jennifer shook her head. “This is the way you’re going to deal with life? Like a petulant child? Then you’re right, Justin. Stay in this room. Never come out. Hide away the minute things don’t go your way. Shrivel up like a fragile flower so nothing will ever hurt you again. Now I agree with you. Brian was wrong. You aren’t ready to live in the world, darling. You can’t handle it.”

Jennifer walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Justin went to the window and looked out. The tree outside was bare and wet with a brush of snow. Autumn was over and winter was here for certain. A long cold winter – without Brian. Without his art. Without anything he cared about!

So what was the fucking point? What did he have? Now he didn’t even have Las Encantadas, or Mrs. Minnett, or the Major. At least there, they understood. They didn’t push him. Didn’t fucking browbeat him, like his goddamn mother!

What did she know about how he felt?

“Shrivel up like a fragile flower so nothing will ever hurt you again.”

Yes, what did she know? It wasn’t her life!

Fuck.

A car came down the street and stopped in front of the condo. Molly ran out, laughing, and opened the door. She and her friend were going to the mall and then to the movies. Molly paused before she got in and looked up at his window, her red hair catching the fading light. Justin moved away, behind the curtains, so she wouldn’t see him.

Hiding.

From the world.

“The Enchanted Cottage isn’t a magical place, it’s a trap, Justin.” 

He heard Brian’s words echoing in his head.

“F... fuck you, Brian!” Justin whispered. “You can b... blackmail me, but you c... can’t control my life!”

He stared at his right hand. Gimp hand. Fucked-up hand.

And yet...

His portfolio was in the corner, leaning against the wall.

He picked it up and laid it on the bed, unzipping it.

All the prints he’d made in the cottage were here.

Except one. The one of Brian and Gus. Brian had kept it.

He looked at each one, remembering how he’d taken the photo. How he’d scanned it into the computer. What he’d done to manipulate the picture. Broken it apart. Put it back together. Turned it around. Then printed it out. He thought about the first time he’d started doodling on one of the prints. It was of Brian, sitting at his computer, his face in profile.

Brian had a beautiful profile.

Still so beautiful.

He’d begun tracing shadows in the background of the photo. His hand was shaky, but that wasn’t a problem. It gave the image a raw, tattered look. Then he got out his watercolors and began brushing them over the surface, saturating the paper here, moving lightly there. Layering the colors. Experimenting.

“That looks good.”

He hadn’t even been aware that Brian was behind him, watching.

Brian leaned on his back, pressing up against him.

“Art is hot,” he whispered. “I like fucking an artist. How Bohemian!”

“We should m... move into a loft in Gr... Greenwich Village. Sleep on a futon. I’ll be a famous p... painter and you can be my m... muse!”

“Futons give me a backache!” Brian snorted. And then he fucked Justin on the kitchen table, pushing the print to the side and hoisting his legs up high. The table shook like it was in an earthquake. 

And it was an earthquake in Justin’s life. That was the new beginning. Justin hadn’t looked back.

He’d made all of these pieces. All of this art.

“Fuck you, Brian...”

He bundled the prints back into the portfolio and carried it downstairs. He put on his coat and took his mother’s keys from the dish by the front door.

“Justin!” Jennifer came out from the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” he said shortly.

He hadn’t driven much since he’d been bashed, but he knew he could do it. He drove the golf cart, after all. And Brian had let him drive the ’Vette around the grounds. He could certainly handle his mother’s Honda. It wasn’t that far to the GLC, just off Liberty Avenue.

He glanced at his watch as he got into the car. It wasn’t even 7:00. They’d probably still be over at the Center, getting things ready for the art show.

He wanted to make sure his pieces were placed in the best possible spot. Right in front. Where everyone could see them.

A real artist wouldn’t stand for anything less.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian gets a visitor at the cottage.

Part 26

Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006

 

“Major?” Brian Kinney stared at the unexpected guest standing on his doorstep. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“May I come in?” asked the Major.

“Oh, yeah.” Brian stepped aside. “Sure. Come in.”

Harvey led the Major into the cottage and headed directly for the sofa. There was a fire in the hearth and the dog shook himself and waited for his master to drop the harness handle before he settled himself in front of its warmth.

“You haven’t been up to the house, so I took the opportunity to bring your mail.” The Major took a plastic bag out of his coat pocket and held it out to Brian.

Brian hesitated for a moment, but took the bag. A package inside made a rattling sound.

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have come up to get it – eventually.”

“Justin always collected the mail every day, so it’s been piling up. And I thought Harvey and I could use some fresh air,” said the Major.

Brian was aware that he wasn’t dressed – he’d thrown on his robe to answer the door – and that he also hadn’t shaved in days. Or taken a shower. Not that the Major could see him, but he might be able to smell him. He fumbled with the bottle of Jim Beam he’d been drinking, then set it on the desk. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes,” the Major replied. “Some hot tea would be nice.”

“Tea?” Fuck tea, thought Brian. “What about something... else?”

“I’ll have a scotch,” the Major revised. “Neat. A double. And some water for Harvey.”

Brian got a bowl for the dog from the kitchen. He also found a box of biscuits that Justin kept for Harvey’s visits and brought a couple out to the living room. Then he poured the Major a generous glass of Johnnie Walker. He noted that his stock of scotch, as well as tequila and Absolut, was getting low. He’d have to venture out to the liquor store soon. He might also have to buy some food, too. But that could wait. First things first.

“Ah! That hits the spot,” said the Major, relishing the drink. “I love a fine wine, but on a cold day there’s nothing like a little Water of Life. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I, Brian?”

Brian clutched his own bottle. “No, you don’t have to tell me, Major.”

“Go ahead and open your mail. Don’t mind me. Harvey and I are enjoying the fire.”

Brian sat at the desk and opened the plastic bag. Some bills Michael had forwarded from the loft. A large Vangard envelope from Cynthia. Those could all wait. A Thanksgiving card from Canada. Brian put that aside for later. And a package that rattled. He unwrapped it slowly. A beige container. He opened it and took out a single white pill. He popped the pill and washed it down with the booze. Then he popped another one.

“Tell me, Brian,” said the Major. “How long have you been in pain?”

Brian blinked, his heart thumping. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Those pills I brought you in the mail. Are they painkillers?”

“They’re... prescription.”

“For pain,” the Major stated. “You shouldn’t be taking those with all that liquor.”

“Why the fuck not?” Brian stood up and swigged from the bottle.

“You know why.” The Major stared sightlessly in the fire as he sipped his scotch. “You’ve been getting them regularly ever since you came here. I never mentioned it to Justin – he takes a lot of pills, too, so I doubt he questioned it. Did he know what they were?”

“No,” said Brian. “It’s none of his business – or yours!”

“No?” The Major raised his eyebrows. “I thought you two were lovers.”

“We are,” said Brian. “Were. But he doesn’t need to know everything. Especially not this.”

“Why not?” asked the Major. “What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing!” Brian shouted so loudly that Harvey stood up and barked. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. But this isn’t anyone else’s business! It’s only mine. And I have to live with it.”

“When did it begin, Brian? The bombing, I assume.”

“In the Burn Unit,” he said, sinking down into the easy chair next to the fire. This was the chair where Justin would sit before bed every night, a mug of hot chocolate in his hand, looking into the flames. And then looking at Brian – and grinning. “It was like my entire fucking body was on fire. I’ve never felt such pain. Imagine sticking your hand over an open match, except it’s your entire body. And not for only a second, but constantly. The worst burns were on my back and my right shoulder. That’s where the impact of the blast hit me. But Ben and Emmett were behind me – they took the brunt of it – and they died. They didn’t tell me that for a long time. I knew Ted was dead – I saw him lying next to me in his own blood. But I didn’t know about the others until... later. That made bitching about how much I hurt seem stupid. Pussy. How could I tell Michael I was in pain when his partner was worm food?”

“Their deaths weren’t your fault,” the Major said. “And they didn’t negate your pain.”

“I know,” said Brian. “But it’s one thing to know that and another thing to reconcile yourself to it. Some days I thought I wanted to scream, it was so bad. But... I couldn’t. I just... couldn’t.”

“Then you had skin grafts?”

“Yes.” Brian fingers curled tightly around the bottle. “And that was another kind of pain. They took skin off my legs for the grafts. I thought they were inventing new ways to fucking torture me! And then it ended. With these scars.” Brian touched his right shoulder with his left hand. “But the pain never stopped. They kept doling out the pills, but in lesser and lesser amounts, trying to wean me off them. But there are other ways to kill pain.” He took another swig. “Booze. Dope. I was already familiar with those methods.”

“But you shouldn’t be drinking and taking strong painkillers, Brian!” the Major stated. “It’s dangerous!”

“No shit!” Brian barked. “No fucking shit!”

“Those supposed suicide attempts,” said the Major, nodding. “They were accidents, weren’t they?”

“Does it matter?” Brian shrugged. “I try to be careful, but sometimes... Who the fuck really cares at this point?”

“Justin, for one,” said the Major. “Your best friend. The mother of your son. And your son. And others, too. Me. Abigail. Even Harvey. And you must have more friends back in Pittsburgh. And family.”

“My family?” Brian sniffed. “Don’t remind me!”

“I can’t see you, Brian, so I don’t know how bad your scars are, but are they so bad that you feel you have to hide? So bad that you are focusing so much on the pain?”

“It’s real,” said Brian. “It’s not in my head! So don’t psychoanalyze me, Major!”

“I’m not,” said the Major. “But I know a little bit about pain, too. That grenade that exploded in my face didn’t only take my sight. I was burned, too. I was in pain. And I was a drug addict for over ten years because of it. I was living on the streets. It’s pretty bad on the streets for an addict, but when you’re blind, too...” The Major held up his glass for a refill and Brian obliged him.

“I imagine it sucks.”

“Yes, it sucks.” The Major took another sip. “Decent scotch.”

“It does the job.”

“And what job is that?” 

Brian closed his eyes. “Making you numb. Making you forget. Making every day pass.”

“Numb to the pain?” asked the Major. “Or numb to something else?”

“To everything,” said Brian. “The docs want to do more surgery on my face – plastic surgery for the scars from the glass.”

“And?”

“I’m afraid,” said Brian. “I know I’ll never be the way I was before, no matter what they do. And it might make the pain worse.”

The Major put his hand down and Harvey came over and nuzzled it. “I never thought you were a coward, Brian.”

“I’m not,” Brian replied. “At least, not in that way. But there’s only so much I can take. Only so much any man can take.”

“So you hide away here. And if there’s another ‘accident’ you don’t have to worry that your poor friend, Michael, will find you again. Have to save you. And then have to sit by your bed while you recover. And now that you’ve sent Justin away, you don’t have to worry about him, either.”

“Something like that.” I am a fucking coward, Brian thought, and the Major knows it. He’s no fool. And he’s been there. “And I didn’t want Justin to stay here and waste his life. It’s one thing for me to be here, but he has his whole fucking life ahead of him! He’s talented. He just needed a little push to take that first step.”

“And you gave him that push – away from you.”

“Away from anything that will hold him back! This estate – this cottage! – is a dead-end! No offense to you or Mrs. Minnett, but it’s a place to wait for the end of your life! That’s no place for Justin!”

“I take no offense, Brian,” the Major answered. “I know why I’m here. If I hadn’t come here, then I’d be dead. But I’ve made a life. And I’m content.”

“But not happy?” asked Brian.

“Happiness is relative. I have my health. I have work at the winery that brings me satisfaction. And... I have love.”

“Love?” Brian snorted. “Because you’re in love with Mrs. Minnett?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I guess. Of course, I’m no expert at love.” Brian turned away. “I’m nothing at love.”

“Justin wouldn’t agree.”

“Justin is a kid! What does he know?”

“That he loves you,” the Major said simply. “I knew I loved Abigail the moment I saw her. Unfortunately, she was engaged to my best friend. That was one of the reasons I joined the Army. I wanted to get away. I had a student deferment, but I blew it off and went to Vietnam. You make a lot of crazy decisions when you think you’re right. And perhaps I was right – in a way. But it almost cost me my life. And I wasted so many years...” His voice trailed off. “But I found my way here.”

“And what did that get you?” asked Brian. “You live here, but does Mrs. Minnett know how you feel? Or does she care? What do you get out of it?”

“I think she knows,” the Major mused. “And she cares about me – in her way. But she’ll always love James. And she treasures his memory – and the memory of her son, Charlie. I’m here to help her and she knows that. I’m happy just to be near her. To be there if she needs me. And that’s enough.”

Brian curled his lip. “What about sex?”

“What about it? It’s not an issue for me – at least not anymore. I’m not sex obsessed, like you!” the Major laughed.

“I’m not obsessed!” Brian huffed. “But I am alive!”

“Is that all you need from Justin? Sex?”

Brian slumped down in the easy chair. “No. It’s important, but it isn’t the only thing. It’s... I can’t explain it! Because I don’t understand it myself!”

“You’re in love with him,” said the Major. “And yet you hide your true feelings. And you send him away. You think that will make him happy?”

“He’s young,” said Brian. “He’ll forget.”

“Have you forgotten? You talk about being in pain, Brian, but which pain is worse? The physical or the emotional?”

“Emotions are bullshit!” Brian spat.

“I rest my case,” said the Major. “You fret about the scars on your face and on your back, but the scars on your heart are the ones that really hurt you. How much are you taking painkillers to kill that pain rather than the physical wounds? I know what that’s like. But there’s a cure, Brian. And you know where he is.”

Brian didn’t answer, but held tighter to his bottle.

The Major rose and Harvey jumped to his feet, wagging his tail. “I’ll be going now, Brian. Thank you for the drink.”

“No problem,” said Brian. “Any time.”

The Major put on his coat. “Be careful with those pills, Brian. Washing them down with hard liquor isn’t what the doctor ordered.”

Brian shook his head. “You can find a doctor to order just about anything you want, Major. Which reminds me... Tell me something I’ve been wondering – were you really a Major?”

The Major seemed to look Brian right in the eye, but Brian knew it was an illusion. “What do you think, Brian? On that note, I’ll say good evening.”

He and Harvey opened the door and went out into the cold air. 

Brian stood in the doorway of the cottage. The wind had shifted. It was no longer sweeping over the lake from the north. Now it was coming from the south.

But it still smelled like snow.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The GLC Art Show.

Part 27

Pittsburgh, Pa., December 2006

 

“I’m n... nervous,” said Justin.

“Don’t be!” Daphne urged. “It’s going to be great!”

Justin and Daphne lingered on the sidewalk in front of the Gay and Lesbian Center, watching people going in to see the art exhibit.

“I know... b... but...”

“Your pieces look so good!” said Daphne. “Just as good as any of the other stuff. No – better! That one of the naked guy lying on the bed? It’s as good as anything in a book!”

“Th... thanks,” said Justin. “It’s one of my f... favorites.”

Daphne hesitated, but she was too curious not to ask. “That’s the guy you’ve been living with in the cottage, isn’t it? Brian?”

“Of c...course,” Justin sighed. “Who else? I’d hardly be t... taking nude photos of the Major!”

“I thought so,” said Daphne. “So, are you sleeping with this guy?”

Justin nodded. “Yeah. Or I w... was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about you and him?” Daphne asked. “You can trust me! We’ve only been best friends, like, forever!”

“I know.” Justin shuffled his feet nervously. “I g... guess I was afraid to. Afraid it w... wouldn’t last. And it didn’t.”

Daphne put her arm around Justin’s waist. “I’m sorry. I knew something was going on between the you and that guy, but you’d never talk about it!”

“And I’d r... rather not talk about it now,” said Justin, squaring his shoulders. “I’m ready to g... go inside and face the music. My m... mom and Mrs. Horvath are already in there.”

“I’m right here, Justin,” Daphne reminded him. “In case you need me.”

“I can always c... count on you, Daph,” he replied. “I a... a... appreciate it. Let’s go.”

Justin took his friend’s hand and they walked up the steps and into the Center.

The art was displayed in the largest room in the GLC, a high-ceilinged space on the second floor. Some sculptures were grouped in the middle of the room, while photos, drawings and paintings lined the walls. Justin’s prints were to the left, but clearly visible as you walked in the door. A knot of people were gathered there, where Debbie Horvath was holding forth on the merits of the art – and the artist.

“A year ago this kid couldn’t even hold a pencil – and look at what he’s done!” she crowed. “He’s got real guts!”

“Jesus, Ma!” Her son, Michael Novotny, tugged at her arm. “Give it a rest! Let the people look in peace! They don’t need to know the kid’s entire life story!”

“Why not?” Deb frowned. “It’s a goddamn inspiring story! And don’t tell me what I can and can’t say, you little shit!” And she swiped Michael on the side of his head.

“Ow!” Michael wailed. “Cut it out!”

Jennifer Taylor stepped forward to defuse the situation. “Why don’t we all get some punch? I’m a little thirsty.”

Okay.” Debbie allowed herself to be steered to the refreshments. “Where the hell is your son, anyway?” she peered around the room.

“There he is.” Jennifer waved. “Justin! Daphne!”

“Hey, M... mom, Mrs. Horvath,” said Justin. “This is m... my friend, Daphne.”

“Hello, Daphne,” said Debbie. “And this is my son, Michael.”

“Hi.” Michael nodded curtly, then turned to get a plastic cup for the punch, leaving the women to gab. 

So that was the kid. Justin. The one Brian was fucking up in Erie. He remembered him from all the commotion after he’d been bashed. Ma and her PFLAG group had organized demonstrations and held fund raisers during the trial of the guys who attacked him. The kid was never at the actual events, but his picture was always prominently placed. He looked older now and his hair was longer, but he was still a punk kid. Not at all the type of hot, buff guy Brian usually went for.

But Brian didn’t have a lot of options lately. Michael shook his head. Any old port on the storm, it seemed.

“How’s the c... comic book store?” Justin asked, reaching for a cup.

Michael looked at the kid in surprise. “You know about my store?”

“Sure. Brian t... told me all about it. And you s... sent him some c... comics. I p... picked up the mail every day and carried the envelopes.” Justin raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t really r... read comic books.”

Michael swallowed. “I know. But I wanted to send him something.”

“He was always in a better m... mood when he got something from you, even comic b... books,” said Justin. “He really l... loves you, you know?”

“He does?” Michael turned away, his eyes tearing up. He didn’t want this kid to see how much he missed Brian. Or how much he still cared about him, even after all that had happened.

“Yes,” Justin said firmly.

“Those pictures.” Michael looked in the direction of Justin’s prints. “Those are Brian.”

Justin nodded. “How did you kn... know?”

“By his profile,” said Michael. “His hands. His body. By everything.” He didn’t mention the conversation he’d had with Brian on the phone only a few weeks before. Instead he looked Justin in the eye, sizing him up. “And he’s fucking you, so it’s not really a stretch.”

“We were f... fucking,” said Justin, sadly. “But not anymore. He kicked m... me out. Sent me home. Back to P... Pittsburgh. That’s why I’m here – alone.”

“Oh,” said Michael. “Brian hasn’t called me back or answered any of my e-mails since right before Thanksgiving. I was wondering what was going on. I thought he might be here tonight.”

“He’s not,” Justin stated. 

“Is he... all right?” Michael was almost afraid to ask. He’d been jealous of Brian and the kid, but knowing Brian was all alone in that stupid cottage gave Michael a chill.

“I d... don’t know,” Justin said honestly. “I hope. But he’s f... fucked up!”

“And you left him by himself? Up there?” Michael hissed. “What were you thinking?”

“I d... didn’t have a choice!” Justin retorted. “Have you ever b... been able to make Br... Brian Kinney do anything he didn’t want to do?”

“No,” Michael admitted. “Fuck!”

“Justin Taylor!” Philip, one of the heads of the GLC, bustled over. “We’re taking pictures of all the artists and we need you! And a reporter from ‘Pittsburgh OUT’ would like to interview you! Would that be okay?”

“S... sure,” said Justin, setting down his cup of punch. “Excuse m... me, Michael.” 

Debbie watched Justin walk away and she went over to her son. “Did you see the pictures Justin made? Anyone with half a brain would recognize him right away. Poor kid! Brian Kinney certainly doesn’t waste an opportunity, does he?”

Michael winced. “It’s none of your business, Ma!” 

Debbie put her hands on her hips, indignantly. “It is my business when your fucking friend takes advantage of a poor, innocent, and damaged boy!”

“He didn’t take advantage of him,” Michael said slowly. “Brian’s in love with him. He told me so. He posed for those photos because they’re lovers. Or they were. But something happened and Brian kicked the kid out.”

“That shithead!” Debbie huffed. “Typical! He gets tired of poor Justin and dumps him!”

“No,” said Michael. “Something else is going on. Brian meant it – I know he did. He sent Justin away. And that worries me. I think I better drive up to Erie and make sure he’s okay.”

“Go on a wild goose chase if you want to,” Deb said dismissively. “Brian probably got tired of the kid and told him to hit the road.”

“That’s not it, Ma,” said Michael. “Not at all.”

He watched as Justin lined up with the other young gay artists to have their photographs taken. He was grinning, but he also kept glancing at the door, as if he was expecting someone. Hoping for someone to walk through it. A tall figure loomed in the doorway and Justin immediately went on alert – but it was a stranger. Michael noticed that the kid kept clenching and unclenching his right hand, compulsively.

He loves Brian. That much is clear, thought Michael. He understood that feeling all too well. Loving Brian Kinney was a lifelong vocation. A thankless responsibility. An incurable condition.

“Welcome to the club, kid,” Michael whispered. “And good luck – because you’re going to need it!”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation in the alley.

Part 28

Pittsburgh, Pa., December 2006

 

After more than two hours trapped at the GLC Art Show, Michael needed some air.

He’d drunk some tepid punch, fought with his mother, and endured watching Justin, the little twerp Brian was – or had been – fucking, being fawned over by the masses. Or at least what passed for the masses at the Gay and Lesbian Center.

“What have I missed?” asked Carl. He’d come in late because he’d been watching the Pitt-Syracuse game on TV and refused to leave until it was over.

“Not much,” Michael said sourly. “Vagina sculptures over here, silk-screened penises over there, and my mother’s new obsession, Justin Taylor, in the center of the room.”

“Where’s the bar?” Carl looked around. “I think I’m going to need a drink!”

“Then you’ll need to walk down to Woody’s, because all you’re going to get here is Virgin Hawaiian Punch.” Michael held up a plastic cup.

“Crap,” sighed Carl. “I better check in with Deb before she has my balls for being so late.”

Michael nodded and watched as Carl went over to his mother and gave her a kiss. There had been a time when he’d disliked Carl, labeling him a cliché homophobic cop. But as he got to know the guy, he realized that Carl might be old school, but he was trying. Trying because he truly loved Debbie. Trying because he wanted to make her happy. And so far their marriage was a success.

But watching them together made him feel even more alone.

He felt a sharp pang in his stomach. For Ben. For the loss of Hunter, who was God knows where. For Emmett and Ted. And for Brian, who was alive, but might as well be on the Moon.

Another person came over and shook Justin’s hand. A short, curly-haired guy. Michael recognized him from an article in the ‘Pittsburgh Clarion.’ Some local violinist who was playing with the symphony and getting a big push. Michael frowned. The article had made it sound like the violinist was straight, mentioning his large female fan-base, but the guy was certainly putting the heavy moves on Justin.

Oh, well. No skin off his ass what the kid did.

He tried to imagine what Emmett and Ted would say about the art show. He often heard their voices in his head, commenting on some ridiculous event, critiquing what everyone was wearing, dishing the dirt on all and sundry. And all three of them watching Brian – always watching Brian with great interest as he honed in on his prey, cut the victim from the herd, and carried him off to the backroom or bathroom or alley.

Michael crushed the plastic cup in his hand and tossed it into the garbage can. Then he headed outside to get that fresh air.

It was cold. And getting colder. Maybe it was his imagination, but the cold seemed to bother him more than it used to. Maybe he was just getting old.

Old. He’d turned 36 only a week before. He remembered a time when turning 30 had been a traumatic event. Now he only wished he was 30 again. The other day he’d really begun to notice the grey in his hair, especially at the sides. Time to get out the Grecian Formula and touch it up. Or maybe leave it alone. Maybe some grey in his hair would give him an air of distinction. He thought about how he hadn’t minded the grey in David’s hair, but thought it made him look steady and dependable, although he never would have said as much out loud for fear of Brian’s scathing commentary about ageing fags. Man, Brian and David had really detested each other! 

It was weird, but he hadn’t thought about David in such a long time. He wondered about Hank. He’d be getting ready to graduate from high school soon. And going off to college. Michael felt another pang. That was a life that could have been his. He could have been happy in Portland...

If...

No matter.

Michael pulled his collar up around his neck, wishing he’d worn a scarf. He sniffed the air, noticing a certain aroma wafting from the shadows of the alley next to the Center.

Some idiot was smoking a joint right out on the street! Or – just off the street. And near the Center! The home of politically correct queers and the people who applaud them! Good thing Tannis or Philip were inside, because they’d call the cops in a minute. Or tell Carl. Who would probably laugh it off.

Michael shook his head, thinking about Brian lurking in the alley next to Woody’s, a joint in his hand, a trick servicing his dick. Those were the days!

He looked over and saw a puff of smoke rising. A tall figure. In a long leather coat...

“Hey!” called Michael. 

The figure retreated deeper into the shadows. 

“Brian?” Michael went closer. “You might as well come out. I know it’s you.”

“You come in here,” Brian said, his voice low.

Michael walked into the alley. “Brian? What the fuck are you doing?”

Brian took another toke on the joint. “What does it look like? I’m waiting for my First Class flight to fabulous Ibiza.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” said Michael. “But I’m glad to see you!” He put his arms around his friend and hugged him. Brian’s long cashmere scarf was wrapped up high, covering most of his face. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming to the show?”

Brian shrugged. “I didn’t know myself until I wandered over here. So – how’s it going?”

“Why don’t you go inside and see for yourself?”

“I don’t think so.” Brian’s eyes were bright in the darkness. “Did you see Justin’s prints?”

“How could I miss them?” Michael replied. “Naked Brian Kinney! Although I think he may have added some special effects to augment your dick.”

“My dick doesn’t need augmenting. Never has, never will.” Brian paused. “How is he doing?”

“He’s right inside,” said Michael. “See for yourself.”

“You tell me.”

Michael took a deep breath. “Everyone is talking about his stuff. Some reporter was interviewing him. Ma was taking all the credit for his success, of course.”

“Of course,” said Brian. “Good old Deb.”

“Come in,” said Michael. “He was looking for you. He loves you, you know.”

Brian looked down, away from Michael’s eyes. “I know. That’s why I can’t go in.”

“But you love him, too,” Michael added.

Brian considered his best friend. He didn’t understand. He never would. “All the more reason to stay away.”

But Michael’s expression was like stone. “I know you’ve been through a lot of shit, but so have I. The difference is that I keep going. I have to live my life every day and hope for the best. It’s the only way I can survive. But you’re a coward, Brian. I never thought I’d say it – but you’re a big, fat, fucking coward!”

“Never fat,” Brian said, flippantly.

“Does everything always have to be a fucking joke? Face it, Brian!” said Michael, his anger rising. “Are you afraid people will see your scars? Or afraid they’ll see you for what you are? A total pussy! A guy who doesn’t have the guts to admit that he actually has feelings! You don’t mind people looking at pictures of your dick, but you can’t stand the thought of them seeing that you have a heart. Or a soul!”

“It’s no one’s fucking business!” Brian returned.

“Not even Justin’s?” Michael asked. “Because he’s in there. And you know what, Brian? He’s okay! He was flirting with some guy! He doesn’t need you, but you sure as hell need him!”

Brian flinched. “Good. That’s what he should be doing. Moving on. He has his whole fucking life ahead of him. You’re right – he doesn’t need me.”

Michael turned away. “Bullshit.” And he strode out of the alley.

“Mikey – wait!” Brian called.

“No!” Michael cried. “I won’t wait! I’m sick of waiting – and I’m sick of you! I’m done, Brian! Finally, I’ve had enough. Where did you say you were going? Ibiza? Well, have a swell time there! Fuck a bunch of guys who don’t know you and don’t care! Guys who will never care! Never give a shit whether you live or die – which is the way you like it!”

Brian watched Michael walk away. He didn’t go back into the Gay and Lesbian Center, but headed down the street, into the cold December night.

“That is the way I like it, Michael,” Brian whispered. “Surrounded by people who don’t care. Then I don’t have to care about them. Don’t have to love them. And don’t have to deal with the responsibility of them loving me. It’s easier that way. Easier to say goodbye.”

Brian dropped the remnant of the joint on the ground and kicked it out of the way. Then he unwrapped the cashmere scarf and uncovered his face. Felt the freezing air against his tender skin. He could hear men calling to each other as they walked up Liberty Avenue on their way to Woody’s. A car driving by, horn honking. Laughter from inside the Center.

Justin was inside.

If only he could see him one last time.

Just a glimpse.

And then he’d be gone.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the art show.

Part 29

Pittsburgh, Pa., December 2006

 

“Darling, It was wonderful!” Jennifer exclaimed. “They all loved your work!”

“And they sold every piece,” Debbie added. “For a hundred fucking dollars each! You’re on your way to being rich, Justin!”

“The Center k... keeps all the money,” Justin reminded them. “The show is b... basically a fund raiser for the GLC.”

“No matter,” said Debbie. “It’s the thought that counts. Your mom and I are going over to Woody’s to have a celebration drink. You and Daphne want to join us?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to go home,” said Daphne as she slipped on her jacket. “My mom and I have to take my grandmother shopping in the morning. But thanks for the invitation.” She gave Justin a quick kiss and a wink. Then she eyed a short, curly-haired guy lingering next to the vagina sculptures. “Go for it,” she whispered.

“Shut up!” Justin gave her a push. “I’ll t... talk to you tomorrow. 

“Okay,” said Daphne. “Later.”

“Are you coming, Justin?” asked Jennifer as she and Debbie headed for the door.

“I’ll c... catch up with you in a few m... minutes,” Justin said. “I want to look at my p... prints a little longer.” 

Justin walked up and down in front of his pieces while Tannis and Philip collected plastic cups and discarded programs and tossed them into the trash.

The prints were good, he decided. Not just okay, but really good. He never would have thought of working this way before Brian got him the computer. Never combined these different techniques. He’d only thought about the traditional ways of working – drawing, painting, collage – but never of merging aspects of all three. And adding in photography, too. It opened up so many new possibilities.

He stopped in front of the largest print – the one of Brian stretched out on the bed. He’d so wanted Brian to see the show. To see his work, matted and framed, on the wall, looked at, praised, even bought. Like he was a real artist.

“Are you through admiring your own work, Mr. Taylor?” asked Tannis. She had been supportive of his pieces, but she was a woman with a perpetual scowl on her face, so it was hard to warm up to her. “We’d like to finish cleaning up here and go home, if that’s all right with you?”

“Sure,” Justin said awkwardly. “I was j...just going.” He put on his coat and slunk out the door.

“Hey! I was wondering when you’d finally come out.”

The curly-haired musician – Ethan – was waiting on the steps. He leered when he saw that Justin was alone.

“I was on my w... way over to Woody’s to meet my m... mom and her friend for a drink,” said Justin. “You want to come along?”

“I have a better idea,” said Ethan, leaning closer. “The symphony is putting me up at the William Penn. It’s a great room – with a bar and room service and a king-sized bed. I have a DVD of me playing last year with the New York Philharmonic. We could watch it and have a drink while we relax. It’s much cozier than some noisy bar on Liberty Avenue.”

“Well...” Justin hesitated. He barely knew this guy. The only person he’d ever had sex with was Brian – and he loved Brian! Daphne had said that he should go for it – but did he really want to? Did he want to have sex with someone just because he was there – and because Justin was lonely. And horny. 

And missing Brian.

“Have you ever done an album cover?” Ethan asked. “I have a new CD coming out in the spring and I like your work. Maybe you could do a portrait of me in that style – with the photos and the colors and those little doodle things? What are those things?”

“It’s ink,” said Justin. “With a w... watercolor wash.”

“Yeah,” said Ethan. “Like that.” His lips were up against Justin’s ear. “You’re hot. But you already know that. If you were my boyfriend, I’d play my violin for you in bed. I’d stroke your strings with my bow.” Ethan’s fingers brushed the front of Justin’s pants. “We’d make beautiful music together.”

Beautiful music together? What a totally cheeseball thing to say! Justin had to stop himself from bursting out laughing.

“Can I t... take a rain-check?” said Justin. “I’m beat tonight.”

Ethan frowned. He wasn’t used to being turned down. “Okay. I’m going to be in town for another week. Maybe you can come and see me play?” Ethan took out a little notebook and wrote down his number. “Here.” He pushed the paper into Justin’s hand. “Give me a call and I’ll arrange it. Have you ever eaten at Papagano’s?”

“N... no.”

“We can have dinner there after the concert,” Ethan purred. “And then that drink at my hotel. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Ethan walked away, leaving Justin alone on the steps. He stared at the scrap of paper in his hand. Then he crumpled it and tossed it on the ground.

“You better throw that number away, twat!”

Justin jumped. “Brian? Is that you?”

“Who the fuck else?” Brian emerged from the shadows

“You scared the p... piss out of me!”

“He’s going to stroke your strings with his bow?” Brian mocked. “Christ! I’ve never heard such a load of horseshit in my entire life! Do guys actually score using lines like that?”

“It apparently w... works for him!” Justin laughed. But then he turned serious. “You came! I can’t believe it!”

“I was curious,” Brian shrugged. “A lot of people came. I was watching them come and go.”

“But you didn’t c... come in,” Justin challenged.

“I saw what I needed to see,” said Brian. “They fucking loved your stuff. I knew they would.”

“All the p... pieces were sold,” said Justin. “They’ll hang here for the next m... month, so you can still come to the exhibit – when no one else is around. They especially l... liked the one of you.”

“Which one of me?” Brian smirked. “The naked one, the naked one, or the naked one?”

“The one of you on the b... bed. It was the first thing that sold. Philip t... told me.”

“I know,” said Brian. “I bought it.”

Justin blinked. “Y... you? Bought that print?”

“Of course. I couldn’t let anyone else hang it on their wall.” Brian shivered and pulled his scarf up around his neck. “It’s fucking cold out here. Let’s go.”

“Go? Wh... where? My mother and Deb are at Woody’s having a drink.”

“I don’t want a fucking drink – for once,” said Brian. “I want something else.”

“Something else?” Justin held his breath.

“I want what’s mine! We’re going to the loft.” Brian tugged Justin’s arm possessively. “Now!”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one more after this.
> 
> The loft.

Part 30

Pittsburgh, Pa., December 2006

 

Justin had heard a lot about Brian’s infamous loft, but he had never been there. So standing at the threshold was a gigantic step in his mind – he was walking into Brian’s past. And also his own possible future.

But that was the critical word.

Possible.

“Well, are you coming in?” Brian was already stripping off his coat, sweater, and boots.

“Oh,” said Justin. “Yeah.”

“Shut the door. Someone is always barging in here if I leave it unlocked,” Brian warned.

“We wouldn’t want th... that,” said Justin. The door was heavy, but he listened for the click that meant it was truly closed.

“Here’s the lock,” said Brian, coming over and pressing some buttons. “Don’t forget to set it when you go out. I wouldn’t want to get robbed – again.”

“Again?” Justin tilted his head.

“It’s not a great neighborhood. It’s getting better, but...” Brian shrugged. “I lost a fucking Philippe Starck juicer a couple of years ago. And some Prada shoes. And suits.”

Justin frowned. “Thieves stole your juicer?”

“I think it was gay-on-gay crime. The cops got some of the stuff back, but they never found that fucking juicer,” said Brian. “Here’s the code for the door.” He punched in 4101971. “Don’t forget it.”

“That’s your b... birthday,” said Justin.

“No shit. How do you think I remember it?”

“So, I’m going to need to know that code b... because...?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “You ask too many fucking questions. Now I do need a drink.” He went to the cart and poured himself a shot of Absolut. “And one for you.” He handed Justin the other glass. “To your fucking success as the new Andy Warhol. Cheers!” Brian clicked against Justin’s glass and downed the booze.

Justin swallowed his drink slowly. It was strong. But a feeling of warmth surged through him – and he didn’t think it was only the vodka.

“When did you get into t... town?”

“Yesterday,” said Brian, walking up into the bedroom. “I still haven’t completely unpacked. I wasn’t sure if I was going to stay.”

“This looks like all of your stuff from the c... cottage,” said Justin, noting Brian’s laptop on the desk – and the print he’d made of Brian and Gus lying next to it.

“Yeah, well, I thought I better bring it all. I wasn’t sure...”

“Sure of what, Brian?” Justin walked up into the bedroom. The platform bed was even larger than he’d imagined. And the light over the bed looked like a lightning bolt crashing through the brick wall. It reminded Justin of the lair of a superhero – dark, sexy, a little scary, but exciting.

It was odd how at home he felt. Like he’d been here a thousand time before. Made love in this bed many times. Laughed in it. Cried in it.

He watched Brian take off his trousers and toss them on top of the dresser. Then he stood in front of Justin, one hip thrust forward.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well, what?” Justin blinked.

“Do I have to draw you picture?” said Brian. “I thought that was your department.” He moved to Justin and began to pull off his clothes.

“Brian – wait! Before we f... fuck, can I ask you something?”

“The next time I see your mother, I’m going to ask her if the therapists teaching you to talk again was really such a good idea,” Brian commented. “Because you never fucking shut up!”

Justin laughed. “I can’t help it!”

“Then use your mouth for something more constructive.” Brian kissed him, probing his mouth with his tongue. “Um... That’s more like it!”

“W... wait!” Justin said again.

Brian rubbed his forehead. “What the fuck now?”

“What’s going to happen?” Justin asked. “T... tell me.”

“Okay,” Brian nodded. “Daddy Bear is going to throw Baby Bear on the bed and rim him until he screams. Then Daddy Bear is going to fill every orifice Baby Bear has with his Big Bad Cock. Then Baby Bear is going to do the same thing to Daddy Bear. Okay? Okay!”

Justin grimaced. “Please don’t use the Bears again, Br... Brian. It’s creepy.”

“Sorry, Sunshine, I thought you liked the Bears. Now... get on the bed and spread your ass!”

“Wait,” said Justin, taking Brian’s hand. “I n... need to know what’s going to happen after we fuck. Is this only for tonight? Or is it f... forever?”

“Nothing’s forever, kid,” said Brian, seriously. “I learned that the hard way.”

“Then why did you c... come back? Tell me the t... truth,” Justin insisted.

Brian touched his own face – one of the scars that jagged down the right side from the middle of his cheek to his jawline – as he considered what to say. “I wasn’t going to. I came back with the idea that I’d tie up a few loose ends and then... then I’d go. Not to any place special, but somewhere. Where they didn’t know me. Where there’d be no expectations. Where no one would notice that I was there one day – and not there the next.”

Justin shuddered. “Then why did you c... come to the GLC?”

“I don’t know,” Brian admitted. “I guess I wanted to see what the show was like. But then I saw Michael. He came out and saw me and we had words. I was pissed at him – but I also realized I still cared about him. And not only him, but other people, too. Lindz and Gus. And even Deb. And...”

“And?” Justin let the word hang.

“And you,” said Brian. “I knew I had to wait. I wanted to see you one last time. Then you came out on the steps and that greasy-haired fucker was waiting for you. I still can’t believe those sleazy lines he was dishing out! See, that’s why you need me, Sunshine. That’s exactly the kind of bullshit you would fall for! You’re an idealist. A romantic. You would believe some liar when he filled your little blond head with all that garbage! And then you’d get your poor heart broken. I can’t let that happen.”

“And you would n... never break my heart?” Justin said gently.

“Only for your own good,” Brian returned. “I’m sorry about that last night at the cottage. I bungled it, as usual, but you needed to leave. It was time.”

“My heart’s not b... broken,” said Justin. “It’s a little cracked, but when I saw you tonight I could feel it starting to mend. And I still feel it m... mending – like magic!” He kissed Brian softly. “Can you feel it, too?”

“See?” Brian huffed. “That’s why you believed in the Enchanted fucking Cottage! Believed that there really was a magical place that can make all your dreams come truth! And the more you believed in it, the more I started to believe it, too. The more I wanted to believe it, even though I knew it was impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” said Justin. “The mistake we m... made was thinking that it could change us on the outside. That’s not where the change happened. It was on the inside. It didn’t make us what we were before – n... nothing can do that. But I don’t need to be what I was b... before. I’d rather be what I am now – in love with you! Here with you! I didn’t have that before I was bashed, but I have it now. And you have me, Br... Brian – if you want me.”

“Yes,” whispered Brian. “I want you. You don’t see the fucking scars. The damage. You don’t see a man who will never be perfect.”

“No one’s p... perfect.” Justin leaned against his lover, his eyes closed. “It’s what’s imperfect that makes for love. You know what artists used to d... do in ancient times? They would put a flaw in their piece, on purpose. An intentional m... mistake, otherwise the gods would get jealous of their talent and destroy it. It’s the flaws that make a work real. The flaws that p... prove your love isn’t just on the surface, but goes deeper, where it matters. To the heart. To the soul. And that kind of love will last, no m... matter what happens.”

“You’re quite the little philosopher, aren’t you?” Brian pulled Justin closer until their hearts were only inches apart.

“l l... learned from the Master,” said Justin.

“You know what?” Brian replied, stroking Justin’s hair. “So did I.”

“There’s still a l... lot to learn,” said Justin. “But we have all the t... time in the world.”

Brian smiled. At long last, he finally felt at peace. “And then some.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue:
> 
> Christmas and a visit to Toronto.
> 
> Thanks for reading "The Enchanted College." If you enjoyed it, please let me know and I'll post some of my other stories here at AOO.
> 
> Gaedhal

Part 31

Epilogue

Toronto, Canada, December 2006

 

“How does my hair look?” Justin asked, nervously. “Is it okay?”

Brian swept his hand across Justin’s head, messing up his the carefully coiffed mop. “There! Now if you don’t shut up about your fucking hair, I’ll put a bag over your head!”

“Brian! C... cut it out!” Justin cried, smoothing the strands back down.

“Jesus!” Brian breathed. “No one gives a shit about your hair!”

“I just want to make a g... good impression.” Justin craned his neck as Brian turned down a residential street. “Are we almost there?”

“It should be down this way,” said Brian. “What’s the number again?”

“5478 Victoria Place,” Justin read off the directions Lindsay had e-mailed. “On the right side of the street. Wh... white house with red shutters.”

“That’s it.” Brian pulled the rented Lexus to a halt in front of the house.

“It looks n... nice,” Justin commented. Christmas lights were strung around the door and wreaths were hung in all the windows. “Homey.”

Brian turned off the engine, but made no move to get out of the car.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked.

“Yeah,” said Brian. “Getting up my courage, I guess.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Justin. “G... Gus and Lindsay can hardly wait to see you. I’m the one who’s a t... total stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger,” Brian asserted. “You’re my partner. Do you have the presents?”

“Of course! Everything’s right here in the b... bag.” 

“Is the present from Michael, Deb, and Carl in there?”

“Yes!” Justin rolled his eyes. “You th... think I’d forget it?”

“No... I’m only making sure.”

“Stop worrying!” Justin took Brian’s hand. “Ready to go in?”

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “I’m ready.”

Lindsay had the front door open before they were even halfway up the walk. 

Gus came barreling out the door, squealing. “Daddy! Daddy! You’re here!”

“Hey, Sonny Boy!” Brian lifted his son up into his arms. Brian winced slightly – Gus was heavier than he’d expected. He’d forgotten how much a kid can grow in a year and a half.

“Daddy! Wait ’til you see our tree! I put ornaments on all by myself!”

“I bet you did,” said Brian. “I bet it looks great!”

“It’s the bestest Christmas tree I ever had!” Gus crowed. “Daddy – did you get a hurt on your face?” The boy touched one of Brian’s scars.

“Yes, Gus. A little hurt. It’s nothing.”

“Oh,” said Gus. “You wanna see my tree now?”

“Of course.” Brian set his son down. “Gus, I want you to meet someone. This is Justin.”

Justin bent down and shook Gus’s hand. “I’m pleased to m... meet you, Gus. See this bag? We have some presents in here. Some of them m... might be for you.”

“Presents!” Gus’ eyes widened. “Oh, boy!”

“Shall we go inside?” suggested Lindsay. “It’s cold and Gus doesn’t have his coat on.”

“C... come on,” said Justin, taking Gus’ hand. “Let’s put the p... packages under the tree.”

Lindsay and Brian stood on the porch as they watched Justin and Gus go inside.

“Is Mel waiting with a shotgun to take me down?” Brian sniffed.

“She’s upstairs putting J.R. to bed,” said Lindsay. “And she’s promised to be on her best behavior – as long as you don’t badger her.”

“I already promised that,” said Brian. “I want this to be about Gus. I want him to have a good Christmas.”

“So,” said Lindsay. “That’s Justin. I remember when he was bashed. And then that trial. It seems so long ago.”

“It was,” Brian replied. “He’s a different person now. And so am I.”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “I can see that. I was surprised when you said you were coming for Christmas. And even more surprised when you said you were bringing ‘your partner.’ When did that happen?”

Brian rubbed his face where Gus had touched the scar. “In the Enchanted Cottage.”

Lindsay frowned. “The what?”

“It’s a long story, Lindz,” said Brian. “Too long to explain out here. I need a drink.”

“I have your favorite Bourbon,” said Lindsay. “Although we never buy liquor.”

“How about some eggnog instead?” Brian asked. “That’s more my speed these days.”

“Eggnog!” Lindsay exclaimed. “Who is this pod person who has replaced the Big Bad Brian Kinney?”

“I can’t drink much while I’m taking my pain medication,” Brian explained. “And I’ll need to take some more soon. The trip up here – the plane, the airport, all the shit with traveling on the holidays... it’s fucking wiped me out!”

“Brian Kinney! Are you admitting to me that you aren’t superman?” Lindsay marveled. “I’m amazed! Is this a good thing – or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” acknowledged Brian. “But it’s the reality. I’m getting better – Justin has been helping me – but it’s going to be a long haul. I’m even seeing a physical therapist. So is Justin. We’re both working on it. Together.”

“Well,” said Lindsay, taken aback. “That’s... interesting. But I’m happy for you, Bri. Justin seems like a nice boy.”

“He’s not a boy,” Brian said firmly. “He’s a man. My man.”

“Oh.” Lindsay looked at the Brian Kinney she had known and loved so long. He really did seem different. More reflective. Thoughtful. And something else. “Brian, did you have something done to your scars?”

Brian stared at her. “No. What the fuck do you mean?”

“I don’t know. They seem fainter. Or... something. I guess it’s just that I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” Lindsay shook her head. “I thought maybe... Oh, well. No matter.”

“I’m glad I came,” said Brian. “I wasn’t going to, but Justin convinced me.”

“And I’m glad he convinced you.” Lindsay smiled. “Gus is going to be so happy! He misses you so much, Brian.”

“And I miss him,” Brian said. “I have a lot of time to make up with him. And a lot of promises to make to him for the future. I’m not going to let him down.”

“I know you won’t,” said Lindsay.

Justin came to the door. “Are you guys c... coming inside? Or do G... Gus and I start opening presents without you? It’s Ch... Christmas Eve, after all! What are we waiting for?”

“Nothing, twat!” Brian walked into the house and grabbed Justin, giving him a kiss. “There’s nothing to wait for anymore.”

“Good,” whispered Justin, leaning against his lover. “M... Merry Christmas, Brian. I love you!”

“And I love you, Justin. Now – where’s that fucking eggnog?”

 

* FIN *


End file.
